


Paint Me

by Nightbirdsong



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightbirdsong/pseuds/Nightbirdsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is nothing but colors to Sehun sometimes, he thinks he can capture the color of a smile on his canvas as he paints his pain away. </p>
<p>The wolds is nothing hollow faces for Baekhyun who is an invisible boy. Sometimes he wishes Peter Pan would make him a lost boy because everything would be better than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was nothing but a study for me but I liked it after I finished it so here I am publishing it without it being proof read or beta-ed or worked over. I might edit this in the future.
> 
> Please keep in mind that there is character death mentioned, a terminal disease mentioned and that both the main characters have mental health issues (more or less)
> 
> Also Sehun has a strange super power here (still laughing about myself for this)
> 
> Enjoy ♡

The world is nothing but colors and sounds for Sehun sometimes. He has those days when he wakes up, turns around in his bed and looks out the small window right above his head and knows it’s one of those days. Sometimes he knows and sometimes he doesn’t because he just feels empty. He feels empty because the other side of the bed is empty, the apartment doesn’t smell like coffee and there is no slice of toast with a little bit of butter waiting for him in the kitchen with a sticky note, a smiley face and a message to keep his mind off of sad things for the day.   
The apartment is empty, Sehun is empty.   
He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help himself. He learned the hard way that life is shitty and every time he thinks he could be happy, everything is ripped away from him.   
Like Jongin.   
On days like these, Sehun rolls over in bed, looks up at the window, pulls a face and rolls back over, burying his face into the pillow on the other side of the bed, only to realize that he needs to get Jongins cologne from the bathroom to refresh the scent that normally lingers on the soft cotton sheets. It’s not the same because it doesn’t smell exactly like Jongin. But it’s enough to create an illusion inside of his head and Sehun needs those illusions to keep going and not lose his mind. When he’s done cooking himself in his self-pity, he manages to peel himself out of the duvet, bare feet meeting the cold floor and he hisses when he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. Jongin always laughed at him when he grumbled under his breath that it was too cold in their bedroom because Jongin couldn’t sleep with the windows closed. He needs the fresh air, Sehun remembers with a sad little smile he seems to wear constantly these days. Jongin needed the fresh air even more when it was ending.   
The thought makes him frown and he nearly drops his toothbrush when he faces himself in the mirror. His hair used to be blond- Jongin did both the dyeing job and the cut- and now it’s grown too long and the brown color is a little bit dull. He doesn’t look the same anymore, when he looks into the mirror. There are shadows under his eyes, but they have always been there. His lips are a little chapped and it’s probably because Jongin was the one reminding him to always use a chapstick.   
“Don’t forget to buy a new one later :)”, was always written on a sticky note on his chapstick and sometimes Sehun didn’t even need to be reminded because one kiss to Jongins lips was enough to make the other frown slightly and the thoughts in Sehuns head swim.   
He doesn’t even know how he was able to love Jongin when he can barely stand any other human being. He can’t stand being around people- all the noise, all the bodies moving around him make him anxious- and he prefers to stay around his brushes, paint cans and canvases. Jongin was there though.   
Sehun doesn’t know how long Jongin was around, but it really feels like he was always there, in every memory, every thought Sehun ever had, but that’s not true.   
He knows that he was only able to leave the apartment and go shopping holding Jongins hand. Because Jongins thoughts always were the loudest around him and the hard grip on Sehuns hand, the brush of their palms together held him together.   
People could brush against his shoulders, could bump into him from behind or from the side and he didn’t even care. Jongin was there, Jongin was holding his hand, Jongin was inside his head and Sehun didn’t care about other people anymore.   
He’s out of red, he realizes, tossing the spray paint can from one hand into the other, eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip sucked into his mouth.   
That means he needs to leave the house and buy more, because he needs to finish this painting. He needs to finish it because the canvas is huge and blocking his entire study and there is no room for anything else inside his head but this. A few months ago it was only Jongin inside his head. Now it’s silent in there.   
It’s Valentine’s day, Sehun realizes when he leaves the house after three hours of debating with himself if he should go and buy some more paint or just order it online like he normally does. It’s evident in the giant paper hearts in all the windows, the couples walking down the street, giggling and kissing each other and whispering into each other's ears.   
Sehun used to be one of those people.   
Not anymore because he can’t stand to touch anybody.   
He pulls his scarf a little higher around his neck, flips up the collar of his black peacoat and shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking down the street towards the shopping center Jongin always took him to. Normally Jongin would go out and get the paint for him, Sehun thinks and balls his fists in his pockets. But Jongin is gone and Sehun is on his own and he needs to buy the paint himself, unless he wants to wait for the delivery service.   
He remembers why he hates to leave his apartment, why he locks the door with three locks and not only one when he enters the mall and there are throngs of people, endless crowds wherever he turns to. And then someone bumps into his shoulder.   
A kiss would be nice, but her lip gloss is sticky. The beginning of simmering lust, a spark of heat burning low in his stomach. Antipathy. He doesn’t even like her that much.   
Sehun chokes on his spit and turns his head to look after the couple he just passed. The guy has his arm around his girlfriends shoulders and he smiles sweetly and nods along to her words and Sehun feels bile rise in his throat. His smile isn’t genuine at all- not to Sehun, because he knows the truth behind it.   
Hunger. Living vegan sucks. Healthy or not, it sucks. Does he even know that he is not saving the planet just because he doesn’t drink milk? Anger.   
Sehun makes a strange sound, almost sobs when he flattens himself against the wall between two stores, one hand pressed against his chest to calm his rapidly beating heart.   
He takes a few deep breaths, closes his eyes and then shakes his head to get his own thoughts back into his head. He needs several seconds of blinking rapidly before he manages to push himself away from the wall.   
The store is tiny, really. The aisles are cramped, the shelves are a mess. Sehun always liked it in here. It’s the place he met Jongin back then. And Sehun feels just as messy and cramped as the shelves are. Jongin accepted that and in return Sehun accepted that Jongin was a little bit weird sometimes.  
“Hey, Sehun.”, Chanyeol says from behind the counter and Sehun lifts a hand tiredly, pushing the double-deal two for one! cans of black and red spray paint across the counter.   
“Hi.”, he mutters and Chanyeol scans the items, eyeing him up and down.  
“You okay there, bro?”, he asks after a moment and Sehun lifts one shoulder slowly, dropping it again with a sigh. Chanyeol pauses and drops the cans into a small bag with the shops logo. He pauses, studies Sehuns face and then hands him the bag and Sehun hesitates. Chanyeol is holding the bag with at the handle and Sehun has to touch him, if he wants the bag. So he does it, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat.   
Worry. He looks pale, thinner than before. Is there somebody I could call? Pity. He really looks shitty. He must miss him a lot.  
Sehun lets go like he burned himself, the bag dropping onto the counter and the cans clattering noisily to the floor behind it, making Chanyeol yelp and dive to catch them.   
“Sorry.”, Sehun whispers and Chanyeol waves him off, laughing silently.   
“No problem. I’m sorry.”, the cashier smiles and adds: “Jongin told me you don’t like to touch people. I just… forgot about it…”  
Because Jongin was always touching him, hugging him, kissing him.   
“It’s okay.”, Sehun says slowly and Chanyeol flushes in embarrassment as Sehun turns away, bag in hand and braces himself for the world outside of this store and the glass door.   
“Sehun?”, Chanyeol calls after him all of a sudden and Sehun stiffens, shoulders drawing up while he turns his head to look at the cashier, who has his arms leaning on the counter bend over next to the cash register. His silver hair glints in the cold neon light of the store and his skin looks pale and Sehun tries to remember how Jongin always looked behind this counter, all tan skin and white teeth and crinkling eyes, dark hair falling into his forehead.   
“Yeah?”, Sehun hears himself make and Chanyeol smiles: “Do you want to… I don’t know… come out for drinks with me and the guys? It’s… it’s anniversary soon.”  
He doesn’t know if he wants to scream or laugh at Chanyeols offer, but he doesn’t feel anything. He feels empty again and the world slowly blurs into colors and sounds again.   
“I don’t know.”. he just answers with a small shrug and grips the bag a little tighter. “I’m not really… a people person.”  
“Just… tell me if you want to, okay?”, Chanyeol grins at him and Sehun sees the flicker of worry in his eyes, so he tries to smile and nod, but he knows he is probably grimacing more than anything.   
“Okay.”, is his last answer and then the stores door falls shut behind him and Sehun is back in a world full of people, bumping shoulders and thoughts he doesn’t want inside his head. 

Sehun used to be a bright person filled with laughter and ideas and brimming with happiness- as long as Jongin was by his side. They were together for three years, almost four and then, like someone snapped their fingers, their happiness was gone.   
Jongin was gone.  
He used to be covered in paint from head to toe not only because he was working on a picture, but because Jongin sneaked up on him and smeared the tips of his fingers across his cheeks, leaving streaks of sticky cold paint in his face. And Sehun felt his thoughts, felt them run through his head, his veins, could taste them on his tongue and Jongin was laughing at him, with him. Now Sehuns world swims from grey to colors and back to grey again. Every memory of Jongin is like a small sparkle of red, or blue, or sunny yellow.   
And then he notices that Jongin isn’t here anymore and the world loses its meaning again.   
His paintings are shades of red and black and purple and Sehun stands in front of them, covered in paint from head to toe, spray paint can in his hand and he feels absolutely nothing. He is empty again.   
It’s a beautiful picture, a cut-out of a beautiful pair of eyes in the upper corner and a deep red shadow falling across a brick wall. Sehun doesn’t know those eyes.   
He used to paint Jongins eyes a lot, his mouth, the way his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks and how his nose wrinkled when he laughed. That goody laugh of his.   
Sehun misses it. 

 

The boy with the hoody stands by the corner when Sehun walks back into the store and buys another set of brushes, the feeling of the soft hairs brushing against the tip of his fingers still lingering in the back of his head. He likes those brushes.   
The boy still stands there when Sehun comes back, has his hood pulled up over his head and the wind is tussling the tips of his light blond fringe and Sehun finds himself looking over to the boy for a moment too long. He’s holding a small paper cup, a cigarette dangling from between his lips and Sehun follows a small puff of blue and grey smoke that is whipped away by a gust of wind. The sound of coins in a paper cup. Sehun doesn’t know why he remembers it, but it’s familiar and Sehun passes the boy just as he makes a step forward, opening his mouth to ask a stranger for some change when the businessman hisses angrily and steps away from the blond. He crashes straight into Sehun, sends him stumbling and then falling to the ground with a yelp.   
Disgust. Dirty street rat. If he dares to touch me with his filthy hands, I’m gonna call the cops.   
Sehun groans, braces himself on the cold ground and reaches blindly for his brushes.  
“Here.”, comes a soft voice and a hand curls around Sehuns wrist to turn his hand and place the small bag with the brushes on his flat palm. Sehun screws his eyes shut, waits for the onslaught of thoughts that always come rushing into his head whenever someone touches him. It doesn’t come.   
Is he okay?   
It’s the only thing resonating inside of his head, a gentle voice, deeper than Sehun would have expected. He looks up, blinks a couple of times and meets chocolate brown eyes, worried and gentle and… warm.   
“Are you okay?”, the boy asks and lets go of Sehuns hand in order to help him stand up, making as if to brush off Sehuns coat, but stopping with an unsure expression flickering across his features. The blond has his hands hovering in front of himself, fingers almost swallowed by the hem of his sleeves. He looks lost, small and afraid and he flinches when Sehun lifts his hand to brush a strand of his hair away from his eyes.   
“I’m fine.”, he mutters and the boy lets out a small breath as if he really is relieved. “What about you?”   
The addition seems to confuse the boy, he brings the tip of his thumb to his mouth and starts chewing on his nail, the skin surrounding it and Sehuns eyes zone in on the raw and bitten skin of his fingers. It seems to be a nervous tick and there are bloody parts around the edges of his nails. But oh, he has such pretty fingers and Sehun rips his eyes away from them again, to look up at the others face. He is small, he notes in the back of his head. At least one head smaller than Sehun himself, the tips of his hair slightly pink where they are peeking out from underneath his hood. His mouth has a natural pout, his tongue is tiny and pink when he flicks it out to wet his bottom lip before he answers: “I wasn’t the one getting run over by an asshole in a suit.”  
Sehun hears himself scoff and he doesn’t even know why. “Yeah, well, but it was a rude asshole in a suit and he was rude to you too.”  
He hasn’t spoken that much in at least a week and his mouth feels weird. The skin of his lips feels like it will split any second, just from those few words spoken between them.  
The blond boy looks down at his feet, this weird expression crossing his features again and Sehun blinks. He knows that look. He has seen it on Jongins face a couple of times when the other refused to let Sehun touch him, closing himself off from Sehuns mind, his touch, their… relationship even. It’s sadness. Deep and utter sadness, etched so deep into the human mind that Sehun can almost taste it on his tongue.   
“Yeah, well.”, the boy says and looks up with a brilliant smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes at all. It’s the same sort of smile Sehun always smiles, Jongin always smiled in the end when he assured Sehun that everything is fine, everything is alright, we are alright.   
It’s smiling with the lips, not the face. No teeth, no moving cheeks.   
Sadness.   
Sehun doesn’t need to touch the boy to know that he is sad.   
“I’m used to it.”, he tacks on to his previous words and Sehun pauses, leans back onto his heels a little bit, but the world is slowly fading away again because people are brushing his back and Sehun is losing track again.   
Revulsion. Is that pest bothering the man?   
Distaste. Why is he even talking to that filth?   
Sehun shudders, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and then the boy in front of him shifts and reaches out for him, brushing his hand against Sehuns arm with a muttered: “Are you really okay, Mister?”  
Fear. A hint of worry maybe and… pain.   
Sehun feels like sucking in a lungful of air, but he doesn’t. He looks at the boy and the boy is looking down at his feet, dropping his hand to his side and balling his fist at his hip.  
“I’m okay.”, Sehun says and then pushes the bag of brushes into the pocket of his coat, takes out his wallet and drops a coin into the boys cup where he holds it limply between his fingers. The blond looks up, startled, even more confused than before and his mouth drops open, lips looking soft and relaxed and a little bit kittenish and Sehun turns on his heel and walks away because his world should consist of nothing but emptiness and colors and sounds. He looks at the canvas later that evening, at the cut-out of eyes at the top and thinks that the colors are wrong. There should be a little bit more… life to it.   
Maybe some aquamarine, a little bit of cornflower blue, a splash of ice maybe. Colors of the ocean, a pale turquoise, the hint of white with a drop of green.   
The picture seems wrong, the colors are off and Sehun looks at the eyes in the upper corner again, fingers flexing around his brush and then he stretches his arm and lets the brush draw around one of the irises, hazelnut brown smearing across black and white. 

 

The door clicks shut behind him and Baekhyun holds his breath.   
There is no sound, no light inside the house and he tiptoes around empty bottles and stacks of old newspapers on his way towards the stairs. His fingers are stiff and cold from the harsh February air hat was biting into his cheeks, his nose, his lips and his fingers.   
He hasn’t earned nearly enough to buy himself dinner, but maybe it’s enough for a small breakfast tomorrow. His stomach is rumbling while he sneaks around the open doorway of the living room. The house is so silent that every step he takes is almost as loud as the shot of a canon to him. He hasn’t been home for at least two days, but he lost count of that.   
This one night he slept at the trainstation, backpack on his lap and arms crossed around it over his chest and no one even bothered to look at him. He is a street rat, the people say.  
One of those homeless little good-for-nothing kids. Runaway, drop-out.  
Maybe Baekhyun would be a drop-out, if he ever attended College in the first place. It’s pretty hard to do that without money, without good grades. He has nothing of that. He doesn’t even have a proper home.   
The second step of the staircase squeaks under his foot and Baekhyun freezes. There is noise in the living room, the shuffling of papers and then the sound of naked feet tapping over the hardwood floor. How nice their house once was.   
“Baekkie?”, the voice of his mother asks, feeble and silent and too loud in the otherwise silent house. If he were a child sneaking out of the house, coming home too late or trying to get their boyfriend into the house without their parents noticing, Baekhyun would probably turn around and smile brightly at her, beam at her as best as he could to distract her.   
But he isn’t an ordinary child and he isn’t coming home late because it’s kind of a wonder in itself that he is coming home at all.   
“Mom.”, he answers, a begging lilt to his voice and turns around slowly. His mother is standing in the doorway of the living room, in her nightgown with her naked toes on top of an old newspaper. Her hair is scraggy and her eyes are unfocused, but she looks up at him with an hopeful expression and Baekhyun feels a small part of himself die.   
“It’s me, mom.”  
“Oh.”, his mother makes, her mouth shaping into the same soft ‘o’ as his does normally. He looks just like her, people used to say. Baekhyun looks just like you, they said to his mother.   
And his mother smiled brightly, brushed a hand over the top of his head and said:   
“Yeah, she’s such a good girl.”  
“Baekkie, you’re coming home so late.”, his mother whispers and Baekhyun sighs, torn between walking up the stairs and locking himself into his room and walking towards her to make it a little bit easier. “Are you wearing your boyfriends clothes again?”  
He grits his teeth.  
“No, mom, those are my clothes.”, he replies slowly and his mother cocks her head to the side slowly, puzzled maybe. She opens her mouth and closes it again, she sways a little bit.  
“But those are boys clothes.”, she whispers and Baekhyun sighs. He makes a few steps down the staircase again and holds on to the banister as if he needs to stop himself from running away.   
“Because I am a boy, mom.”, he tells her, sadness lacing his words. “I am a boy, mom. Your son, Baekhyun.”  
“You’re my sweet little daughter.”, she shakes her head adamantly and Baekhyun feels the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes. “I was born a boy, mom. You know I was born a boy.”  
“No.”, she says again, a little louder and her bony hand closes around his upper arm, yanking hard and Baekhyun grips the banister a little tighter. She’s up in his face, glaring at him and her cheeks are colored with little red splotches.   
“I had a girl.”  
“No, mom, you just always wanted a girl.”, he answers and yanks himself away from her, turning on his heel and fleeing up the stairs towards his room. The pink letters on his door spelling his name scream at him and he wants to rip them down, break them into little pieces and set them on fire. He wants to set the whole house on fire.   
“Wait until your father comes home, young lady!”, his mother screeches downstairs and he screams: “Dad is gone! You nutjob!” before slamming the door shut with a bang.  
The walls are still light peach, the furniture white and nice and bright, with curves and curlicues and butterflies. He hates it. He wants to throw up.   
He wants to take a match, toss it down on his peach colored carpet and watch the flames lick higher across the walls until there is nothing left anymore. The football posters and sports team jerseys and rock band pictures can’t hide the peach, the white, the butterflies.   
Maybe they make it even worse because it’s what Baekhyun is.   
He is torn between what his mother wants and what he really is. There are nicely framed pictures of him in a pink frilly dress hanging on the wall, a polaroid of him and his friends pinned over it so he doesn’t have to look at this anymore. Because Byun Baekhyun is a boy, not a girl. He wasn’t even born a girl. His mother just always wanted to believe that.   
Baekhyun doesn’t know what is wrong with her, what is wrong with her head, if there are only some loose screws or if she’s completely wacky.   
Maybe it’s the reason the only person who ever treated Baekhyun like a boy left this house without even saying goodbye. No more baseball games, no more hot dogs and gross peanuts shared with his father, no more mustard stains on jerseys.   
Just the ever urging mother standing behind him, brushing his hair, complaining why he had to cut it short. He did it himself, in a sudden rush of rebellion. On his birth certificate and his ID it’s written black on white: Byun Baekhyun is a boy.   
And yet he was raised as a girl. Dresses, soft toys, puppets, ponies and princess movies.   
Baekhyun still wants to throw up. He stands in the middle of his room, glares at the peach colored walls that almost fit his hair color, balls his fists and then throws himself onto his bed, kicks his feet a couple of times and then rolls over so he can pull the small box from underneath his bed. There are pictures in there, thousands probably.   
If his mother would ever find this box, she would burn them, most likely. Because Baekhyun is her precious little daughter, her honey, her darling. Her good little girl who looks just like her. Oh yes, he looks like her, but he never wanted to be like her.   
Pictures of him and his father at the zoo, of him and his friends playing soccer in the backyard, of the one time he scraped his knee and knocked out one of his teeth while trying to be cool and skate in the park, blood running down his chin and leg while he grins brightly into the camera. All those memories don’t count anymore because his father is gone and Baekhyun doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be out there rather than inside this house, but he is freezing and he needs a shower and his clothes are sticky and gross.   
He still turns the box over and looks for his fathers old shaving razor, flips it open and then shuffles out of his pants, pulls them down until they are around his knees. He takes a deep breath, runs a shaking hand through his blond hair and then presses the blade against his skin. The pain is small, compared to the pain inside his chest, the hurtful beating of his heart against his ribs. There is a small bead of blood bubbling up beside the blade, rolls down the inside of his thigh and Baekhyun watches it with tears in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. If he would cut just a little bit deeper, just a tad. It would be over in seconds. Cut the vein running under his flesh, bleed to death in this girly room, with his pants down at his knees and his boxer shorts pushed up towards his hips. He is pretty sure that he could die naked on his bed and his mother would still be convinced that he is a girl.   
He loathes it.   
He loathes himself.   
He loathes that he can’t be who he is, that no one will ever accept him the way he really is and that he has no place he belongs to. No one cares about good-for-nothing-kid Byun Baekhyun. He doesn’t really exist. Baekhyun is invisible.   
The blade bites a bit harder into his skin the second and third time and his flesh splits apart underneath it. And Baekhyun sobs into his sleeve, tries not to choke on his own breath and wishes for his entire existence to just vanish. 

 

Sehun wakes up, rolls over in his bed, looks up at the window and frowns.   
It’s raining and the sky is almost black, thunder rolling in the distance and there is a cool breeze coming from the open window at the foot of the bed. His toes feel like ice.   
He rolls over again, closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep, but he can’t. It’s not one of those days. He doesn’t think in colors and sounds. He isn’t empty.   
Sehun shifts underneath the duvet, pulls his knees up to his chest and curls his toes to warm them up again while he leans forward on the bed and pressed his face into Jongins pillow. It’s warm because his arm was resting on top of it the whole night. It smells like him and a little like Jongin and it’s enough to make him get up, swing his feet over the edge of the mattress and hiss at the cold of the floor against his feet.   
He misses the coffee, the warmth of a Sunday morning hug, the taste of a strawberry jam kiss against his lips. The stickiness of it, the comfort of Jongins fingers running gently through his hair. He thinks he should feel empty, but he doesn’t.   
“I miss you.”, he tells Jongins picture in the hallway when he passes it, brushes the tips of his fingers against the glass in a loving gesture he doesn’t do often and then pushes open the door to his study for the first time in two days. The canvas isn’t black and grey and red anymore. It’s beautiful and alive and it doesn’t fit into his study. Not when everything else is dead and Sehun thinks in colors and sounds. It’s life, not alive.  
The eyes.   
They are pretty, but oh so sad and Sehun asks himself for a moment if those are his eyes. If he painted himself there, sad with dreams inside his eyes. Dreams of better days, of flowers and kisses and chocolate whispers inside his mind. The feeling of another thought he knows doesn’t belong to him, an emotion flittering through him, pulsing and twisting but not foreign and strange. But welcomed and loved and… at home inside of him too.   
This is not Jongin because Jongins eyes were never this sad. Not even when it all came to an end and Sehun couldn’t stand touching him anymore because every time he did, he could feel himself slip and die a little bit more. With each breath Jongin took and each emotion he felt when Sehun was holding his hand, Sehun was dying a little bit more.  
He was dying next to his lover who was always smiling at him encouragingly, whispering: “You can do this, Sehun. You can do it all. You just have to want it.”  
Sehun doesn't know what he wants. He doesn’t know if he wants coffee, or if he wants tea, or if he wants water. He can’t decide for his life because he isn’t really living.   
He exists in this apartment, secured and closed off in a private little bubble, his comfort zone. Jongin was his link to the outside, the missing piece to a puzzle Sehun didn’t want to solve. Other people were cruel. The world was a horrible place and there was no good thought inside anybody's head. Just distrust and repulsion and anger and jealousy.   
Sehun can’t stand looking into peoples heads anymore. He doesn’t want to.   
He wants to curl up into a ball and die so he doesn’t have to touch anybody.   
Jongin isn’t here anymore and the door is closed and Sehun doesn’t know how to open it.   
And he finds himself staring at the eyes in the picture. Those sad, living eyes and he decides that today he wants coffee.   
Pity. That boy looks so lonely.   
Shame. I kissed someone else. She’s never going to forgive me.  
Despair. I can’t be pregnant. This can’t be happening to me.   
Anger. She doesn’t want me? Fine! I didn’t want her in the first place!   
Sehun tries to breathe.   
His lungs feel like they are burning and he holds a cup of too hot coffee between his fingers while he stares at the entrance of the mall and tries to make himself walk. His brain knows he should just place one foot before the other, but he can’t. He is frozen, lost even.   
There are so many people around him, talking, laughing, shoving and bumping and feeling.  
His skin is vibrating. He feels like his entire body is.   
And then he feels someone tap his shoulder and a small shock flows through him.  
Loneliness. He looks just as lonely as I feel.   
He turns around, grips his coffee a little bit tighter and doesn’t know what he expects. But it’s not a fluffy head of blond hair, warm brown eyes and a pouting mouth that looks soft and smiling and this time, it’s a real smile.   
“Mister, you have to go in there, not only look at the mall.”, the blond boy grins and Sehun swallows around the taste of coffee lingering on his tongue.   
“What?”, he gets out over his too-dry tongue and the boy cocks his head to the side with a small laugh. He has his hands in his pockets and there is no cup with coins and he looks pale. There is a bruise on the edge of his cheekbone and Sehun almost wants to asks where he got it. It’s none of his business.   
“You look like you want to go in there, but you can’t. Like a dog on a leash, you know?”, the boy states and Sehun drops his gaze down to his shoes, to the worn off tips of his sneakers. Jongins sneakers actually.   
“I-”, he starts, but there isn’t really anything he could say. The boy stays quiet for a moment and then blinks a couple of times like he is studying Sehun but he can’t get anything out of him. His lips are chapped, just like Sehuns and his cheeks are red and then Sehun realizes that they are red because of the cold. The boy is again only wearing a hoody. There are holes in his jeans too and Sehun isn’t sure if they are supposed to be there, or if his pants are just old and used and he doesn’t have a different pair to wear.   
“Mister, really. Are you alright?”, the smaller blond inquires hesitantly and Sehun snaps his eyes up from where the boys knee pokes out from his jeans, scraped and blue and the skin a little rough.   
He extends his coffee without even knowing why, looking straight at the boys face as serious as he can. He trembles, knows that they will probably touch again, but he knows that the other is cold, sees it because the boys shoulders are trembling, like he is constantly wracked by small tremors.   
“I didn’t take a single sip.”, he states and the blonds eyebrows raise in surprise. “Please take it. I don’t have any spare change and… uh… Actually I think I don’t even know where my wallet is.”  
The boy stares. And stares. And stares some more. Then he bursts out into pealing laughter, high and bright and alive and Sehun tenses when the other reaches out and slowly takes the paper cup from him, fingers brushing against his knuckles.   
Happiness. He’s so weird.  
Sehun feels a pang of hurt well up in his chest, like his heart is clenching and the blond boy chuckles: “You’re weird Mister. But the good kind of weird.”  
The hurt slowly morphes into something close to relief, to something close to something cheerful inside of him and Sehun tries to smile. It’s not a grimace anymore and the blond boy in the hoody smiles back at him, for real.   
Happiness. 

 

Sehun rolls over in his bed, looks up at the window and frowns.  
Nothing but rain for the past few days. He doesn’t like the rain. It reminds him of days spend in bed, buried beneath the blankets and Jongin not talking to him, only touching him to let him know how he feels. He remembers the last few days, white sheets, white lips, white skin.   
When he looks at his canvas this time, he hates the white and he starts painting.   
Medium spring green, chartreuse, sunny yellow.   
Jongins laughter, the blond boys happiness echoing inside of him.  
Happiness.  
A word tasting bitter on his tongue when he thinks it, but he has missed it. So dearly.   
Lips in rosy brown, peach puff and honeydew where the light reflects off of them. Hinting white teeth in a smile. Alive. Sehun doesn’t feel empty.   
He brushes his fingers against Jongins face in the photograph as he passes on his way to the door, paint clinging to his fingers and it’s neither black nor red nor grey.   
Jongin would like the colors this time. He would smear them across Sehun face, laughing and shoving him away and sticking his tongue out at him.   
Sehun walks out into the rain with an umbrella, the white one although he hates it. It’s casting a light across him that makes him feel like a ghost, too pale in his own skin.   
It’s difficult to hold two paper cups with the umbrella and he has it wedged between his jaw and shoulder, balancing the cups to not spill anything over his hands while he walks around the corner from the mall to where the boy normally stands.   
And there he is, holding his cup and he is shivering, drenched to the bone from what it looks like. His hood is wet, his hair clings to his forehead and he is chewing on his lips while he bounces up and down on the balls of his feet. People are just walking past him like he doesn’t even exist, not even looking at him. They walk, save from the rain under their umbrellas, arm in arm with a friend or a lover and the boy stands there with his lips blue and his eyes watering and desperate. He looks miserable.   
“Oh, hey.”, he makes when he spots Sehun, shifts a little so he can stuff the cup into his pocket as if he is trying to hide it from the taller. “Sehun.”   
“How…”  
“Your name was written on the fancy Starbucks cup.”, the boy smiles, but there is no joy in the gesture. Just sadness and Sehun feels his heart stutter in his chest. He knows that looks so well. So, so well. And he hates it. He missed happiness, but he doesn’t miss sadness. Because it’s still there, every day, every single second and minute of his life.   
“Oh.”, Sehun makes and the boys eyes land on the two cups he holds, his pouty mouth falling into a soft frown and Sehun feels unsure if he is doing the right thing. But the blond is shivering so violently that his teeth are rattling and the tips of his fingers are blue.   
It’s cold. February is always cold.   
“I didn’t know if you liked… tea. I brought chai latte.”, Sehun mutters and steps closer so the other so he is standing under the umbrella too. The rain makes a soft pitter patter sound above them and Sehun can feel the cold practically radiate off the smaller male in front of him, can see how the others eyes flash down to the cup and up to Sehuns face again. He looks longing, lips pressing together into a thin line and relaxing again.  
“I like chai latte.”, he whispers after a minute or two and carefully takes the cup with both his hands, delicate fingers curling around warm cardboard. Their fingers brush.   
Gratitude.   
Nothing else. There is just gratitude inside the boys head and Sehun smiles a smile he forgot he even has in him. It’s tense and a bit off, but it’s there.   
“It’s been a while.”, the blond adds and Sehun watches him take a sip, close his eyes and lick foam from his lips, a look settling on his features that is almost blissed out.   
And Sehun reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet, pulls out a bill and folds it into a little square so the other doesn’t see the number on it and pushes it into the bulging pocket of the others hoody where he knows he is hiding the cup.   
The boys eyes go wide and he looks down at his pocket and up again, eyes suddenly teary.   
“Why?”, he asks silently and Sehun shrugs, the warmth of his cup seeping into his fingers and something else warm blooming inside of his chest.   
“I want to.”, he responds and the boy makes a strange sound, a strange face and he doesn’t look like Jongin at all. He looks young, vulnerable and lost and small and Jongin was always tall and strong and laughing. Until the very end.   
“My name’s Baekhyun.”, the small blond mumbles and Sehun takes a breath. “But why?”  
He turns on his heel, hesitates for a second and then hands the other his umbrella. He hates this thing anyways. Baekhyun is confused again, but he doesn’t object when Sehun pushes the umbrella into his hand, closing the smallers pretty fingers even though there are a thousand emotions running through his body at once and he doesn’t want them.   
Happiness. Confusion. Again Gratitude. He’s so weird. So weird. I’m not invisible.  
“Because.”, Sehun says as he is turning away already, hands in his pockets and rain falling onto his head and running over his scalp. “You’re happiness. I miss happiness.”

 

Orchid, medium orchid, lavender blush.   
Soft. Blended edges, dabs of the brush. Sehun works slowly, reverently even while he paints the laughing bridge of a nose, the gleam of a pair of eyes, reflections of rain inside the irises.   
He paints a world inside someone's head, everything inside a pair of eyes he doesn’t know.  
Jongin is not here.   
He’s gone and Sehun is slowly letting go and he knows it.   
He rolls over in the morning, presses his face into the cotton sheets, takes a deep breath and says goodbye to Jongin for the day. They’ll always meet in Sehuns dreams at night, but the day is for the living and Sehun has to start living some day. His fridge is empty, his cabinets dusty. The coffee maker sits idly on the counter, where Jongin left it the day it all started and ended at once. There is coffee ground in the filter, dry. There is still a plate on the counter with a sticky note and the sticky note is empty. But Sehun can’t bring himself to put it all away. Those are Jongins last bits and pieces in his life.   
Remainders, cold memories and Sehun knows he has to let go and go on some day. But he allows himself to be weak in the mornings and when he breathes deep just before he is leaving the apartment, eyes on Jongins picture in the hallway. The small strip of black around the corner is distracting and he reaches out as if to pull it away. But he doesn’t. It’s a symbol, something people do and Sehun needs to remind himself of what happened each and every day. And he thinks to himself that maybe he leaves the apartment and walks to the mall, buys two cups of chai latte and a warm cinnamon roll, that he is leaving the house for Jongin too. Not only for a blond boy in a ratty hoodie with holes in the sleeves where he pushes his thumbs too hard against the fabric.   
He doesn’t want to let go.   
But he has to.

 

He’s cold.  
Freezing to the bone maybe and he imagines that there are little ice crystals clinging to his eyelashes and his lips and his hair and his clothes. There aren’t any ice crystals, he knows that, but he feels a bit like Jack Frost. Nobody sees him, he’s still invisible, a lost boy.   
The house is cold again, almost as cold as the outside and his mother is gone. She isn’t in the living room, not in the kitchen, not in her bedroom. There is no home for Baekhyun here.   
It used to be different.   
And now he has peach carpets, tulle curtains and princess stickers on his door.  
There are some left-overs in the fridge but they taste like cardboard and the microwave is broken. So he eats cold chicken on the floor of the kitchen, staring at his feet, cocking his toes from one side to the other like a clock. Tick tock.   
February is merciless this year. Rainy and bitter cold and Baekhyuns clothes are wet. They are always wet. He doesn’t want to change here, doesn’t want to stay longer than he needs to, but he feels like he is starving. He can count his ribs when he is looking into the mirror. He can see them beneath the bruises that are slowly fading away into shades of green.  
His knuckles and wrists are turning bony. He needs to eat and he doesn’t have enough money to go and buy himself something proper. He doesn’t even have enough money to go to McDonalds and buy more than two cheeseburgers. If at all.  
Because he is invisible.   
And then there is Sehun. Stoic, confused looking Sehun who shies away ever so slightly when people pass him on the street and Baekhyun wonders why.   
Thinking about Sehun makes him feel a little bit warmer. He thinks about the chai latte, the cinnamon roll, the hesitating laugh Sehun let out when Baekhyun told him that he should be careful. He might be tempted to follow the taller man home like a lost dog.   
Sehun laughed, glanced away and fell silent.   
“You’re happiness and I miss happiness.”  
Baekhyun repeats the words inside his mind a couple times each day since then, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He’s not invisible for Sehun. When Sehun looks at him, he sees him. He isn’t looking past him, through him, over the top of his head.   
No.   
Baekhyun knows he is being stupid, an idiot. Naive.   
Who knows? Sehun could be a serial killer. Human trafficking is an issue, isn’t it?  
Maybe Baekhyun is too skinny to sell him for good money? What reason could a man dressed in good clothes with nice pants who gives away fifty bucks just like that want from a kid like Baekhyun? He’s nothing. Not even his own mother acknowledges him the way he is.   
Why should Sehun?  
He still has those fifty bucks. They are tucked away into his wallet, right behind the picture of his father. He should buy food, new shoes or whatever with those fifty bucks. Not keep them like a lovers note where nobody can find them. For some strange reason, Baekhyun clings to the tiny square Sehun folded and shoved into his pocket that day in the rain. He unfolded it, folded it, unfolded it again. He is a little bit scared he will tear the bill apart between his fingers if he keeps doing it, but it’s like he is searching for a secret note scribbled onto the paper. Of course there is no such message, but one can dream, right?   
His bruises are slowly fading, but they still hurt. He doesn’t know if he broke any bones the last time his mother shoved him down he stairs, but his ribs feel uncomfortable when he takes a deep breath and the cold doesn’t help. His muscles are cramping all the time when he stands outside holding his measly paper cup, shaking between his fingers and the coins rattling. Most of the days he is drenched lately, like someone dumped a bucket full of ice cold water over his head and Baekhyun knows he is coughing.   
He’s catching a cold, slowly but steadily and he knows it will be the end of him if he doesn’t keep warm. Or warmer. There isn’t really much he can do.   
Some people would ask why Baekhyun doesn’t dress warmer then, why he doesn’t wear a jacket, why he doesn’t wear a hat or gloves. The answer is easy and Baekhyun grits his teeth every time he thinks about it. Because the clothes he wears on his body are the only clothes he has that aren’t pastel colored, don’t have flower prints or are skin tight.   
His mother burned all the clothes he hid from her under his bed the night he finally made a run for it. With only this hoodie and this shaggy pair of jeans he is wearing now, the white sport sneakers worn out. He doesn’t even have a jacket anymore.   
And the winter was cold- they even had snow.   
Baekhyun slept at home over the weeks they had snow, curled up under his blanket, pillow pressed over his ears to muffle the screams of his mother, who pounded her fists against the door to get him out of the room. Sometimes he wasn’t fast enough to escape her when he came home, not fast enough to escape her grabbing hands that closed around his shirt to yank him down. He was sure his nose was broken, blood gushing out over his mouth and chin and over the stairs while his mother started beating her hands down on his back, cursing him and wailing on the top of her lungs because she thought he was his father.   
His father wasn’t coming back though.   
Baekhyun sometimes wishes his father would have taken him with him. Away from the crazy woman who thinks he was born a girl when he clearly is a boy. The crazy woman who sometimes thinks he is his father and forces him into bed with her- sometimes after putting something in his dinner at night and sometimes with her hands around his throat.   
Baekhyun doesn’t want to die, so he just does as he’s told and keeps silent while his mother sighs his fathers name and cries because she doesn’t understand why her little baby girl had to die. Where is Baekkie, she always asked in those moments, why is she not here anymore?   
He feels bile rise in his throat again and he throws up into the sink, the cold chicken feeling like it’s clawing its way up into his mouth. It’s agonizing, the heaving, the coughing and his lungs heart. Baekhyun thinks he going to die. Sooner or later he is going to die.   
He will probably end up a homeless boy dead on a park bench or something.   
But sometimes he doesn’t feel cold anymore. He feels warm and tingly for a few moments, not only from the creamy hot chai latte he feels run down his esophagus and into his tummy, feels it sloshing around there for a few more minutes because he hasn’t eaten all day. He doesn’t feel warm because of the cinnamon rolls - although Sehun never told him why he is always buying cinnamon rolls and Baekhyun never saw him eating one himself. He feels warm because Sehun at least seems like he cares. Baekhyun doesn’t know if he really does, but it’s nice to just pretend for a moment. For those minutes Sehun stands awkwardly in front of him although the man isn’t really awkward. No, Sehun actually holds himself straight and almost proud. Head high, eyes curious and open. And still… There is this little something, this shying away from people that makes him seem anxious, like he wants to run like a deer.  
Baekhyun has stopped wondering about the meaning behind Sehuns words, he just embraces them, cradles them inside of himself and keeps them dear. Perhaps it’s wrong.   
But how could Baekhyun care?   
He needs any little ray of light in this world he can get.   
Or he will give up. That’s a fact and it’s not debatable. Not with Baekhyun and not with his life. He doesn’t have the strength to go on without at least a little bit of hope.   
Is there hope though? Is Sehun really something that should give him hope? He doesn’t know the other man, doesn’t know what his motives are, but he doesn’t have the strength to argue about this anymore. And as he rinses his mouth and spits into the sink, brushes the back of his sleeve over his mouth to dry the water off, he looks at the window and at himself. He used to have long hair, silky and smooth, flowing over his shoulder and framing his face. His mother dyed it blond for him, had smoothed her fingers through the strands to tip them with pink. Baekhyun hated it. He hated looking at his reflection, hated how she spread lipgloss over his lips, how she forced his head into his neck to apply mascara to his lashes.  
“Such a pretty girl.”, he mutters now and grimaces.   
Byun Baekhyun, born a boy, raised as a girl. Homeschooled, kept away from other people the moment puberty hit. Because Baekhyun was growing hair where girls don’t grow hair.   
He wasn’t born with a lot of hair on his chin, but it was enough to make his mother freak out and apply hot wax to his upper lip and rip it off, muttering that everything was going to be alright because he was her pretty little girl. He didn’t know it any better.   
For a very long time he just wanted to make her happy. Because Baekhyun loved his mother- he doesn’t really love his mother anymore - and he didn’t want her to cry anymore.   
Baekhyun always knew he wasn’t a girl. He looked longingly at the little cars and action figures other children had, was the one destroying sand castles in kindergarten.   
Yes, he did it for his mother, but deep down inside of him he knew that it was wrong what she did to him. The other boys wore pants and Baekhyun wore a skirt.   
He hears the front door open and Baekhyun bolts for the open kitchen window.

 

“Come out with the guys and me.”, Chanyeol suggested for what felt like the millionth time and Sehun agreed this time. He needs to move on. Oh how he regrets that now. He regrets it now because the bar is crowded, people are shouting at each other over the music and he is wedged into a booth with a bottle of beer clutched between his fingers on the table in front of him. Chanyeol tries not to touch him, but it’s inevitable with how they are pressed against each other in the narrow space of the bench and the guy next to Sehun shoots him worried glances now and then because Sehun is starting to shake.   
“Yo, are you okay?”, the guy- Kris, if Sehun remembers correctly- asks him and he nods so jerkily, his neck hurts. His lips are pressed into a thin line hard and unforgiving and if people were looking closely, they would notice that he is chewing on the inside of them. He already tastes copper on his tongue. He can’t even place his finger on the emotions he filters out of peoples heads anymore. They are just there, a brewage of thoughts and feelings and Sehun feels like vomiting. His stomach is flipping, there is a bead of cold sweat running down his spine and he shudders, has to grip the bottle a bit tighter to not lose his grasp on reality.   
He feels like he is slipping slowly, like his head is spinning and he is getting dizzy slowly.   
“You looks like you’re gonna throw up.”, Chanyeol says next to him and Sehun shakes his head violently. He sounds breathless when he mutters: “I think I need to go home.”  
Chanyeol looks puzzled, hurt perhaps, but he nods slowly and gives Sehun a smile.  
“You tried, right?”, he chuckles and Sehun feels offended for a second or two. But then he picks up a bit of Chanyeols emotions in the clutter that is steadily flowing through him and there is nothing bad inside the lanky mans head. Just worry. Sehun despises worry like nothing in this world. Maybe pity comes first.   
And Chanyeol pities him and he is worried about him and Sehun doesn’t care.  
He wants to get out of there, wants to crawl back into the security of his own home, wants to close the door, lock it behind himself. He wants to close the windows, the blinds.   
Sehuns wants his old life back. The old life with Jongin by his side who holds him steady so he doesn’t even care about what other emotions he absorbs and drags around with him.   
He doesn’t have an anchor anymore.   
“Yeah.”, he whispers and Chanyeol lifts a hand like he wants to pat Sehun on the shoulder, but he thinks better of it and drops his hand again. He smiles a little wider.  
“It was nice having you with us, Sehun.”  
“Thank you.”, Sehun answers him hesitantly and then adds: “It was nice for me too.”  
It wasn’t. But people don’t want to hear something like this. They want to hear that everything is alright, that it was nice going out with them, that Sehun had fun. Not that he hates being in places like this, that he doesn’t want to interact with anybody but his canvas waiting for him at home. So he forces himself to smile and laugh when he bids his goodbyes to the other guys, who complain loudly that Sehun hasn’t even stayed four hours.  
“I’ll join you guys another time, okay?”, he chuckles and the ruckus at the table dies down.   
“You better!”, Chanyeol booms over the noises of the bar and Sehun nods while he slips into his jacket and straightens his scarf.   
“Thanks again.”, Sehun tells him quietly and Chanyeol flashes him a thumbs up.   
The night is cold and crisp and it’s only getting colder because there are no clouds to veil the stars. It’s going to be so cold that all the car windows and the grass and everything else will be covered in ice in the morning. It’s so cold already that Sehuns fingers hurt before he balls them into fists and shoves them into his pockets. The wind is biting and unforgiving and Sehun feels melancholic. He feels melancholic because his home will be just as cold.   
It will be warm in there, sure, but there is no warmth. Sehun never bothered to make his apartment a home. He didn’t need it. He lives for his art, for nothing else. Yes, he once lived for Jongin too, but that didn’t mean he needed a thousand pictures hanging on the walls.   
It just always bothered him.   
The mess.   
Sehun needs clear lines in his life, pristine white, crisp and cold to other people maybe. He’s surrounded by colors most of the time, inside his mind, on the canvas he’s working on.   
There are countless colors splattered all over his clothes and skin and Sehun doesn’t need any more of those. He had Jongin though.   
Jongin in sandy brown and golden rod, soft chocolate, sinful firebrick red.   
He inhales slowly, feels snowy air fill his lungs, hard and cold and unforgiving. He imagines it to taste on his tongue like light cyan, like the palest of azure. Winter.   
Sehun likes to imagine those things. How he would paint the feeling of things. Sometimes he thinks that deep down he has no idea how the world really works, how emotions really work.  
He can paint them, make people cry with what he creates with a stroke of a brush.   
What would it feel like to sit down here in the park, on one of the benches and let himself be covered in snow, let himself become one with the winter until he can’t move at all.  
The thought is strange and Sehun snorts under his breath while he turns the corner of the path and walks further down the small slope that leads down to the street again.   
He stops walking after just a few feet though, hands in the pockets of his coat and scarf brushing his nose. There, on one of the benches facing the light of the city, is Baekhyun.  
He has his back turned to Sehun, but he knows only one person who wears a hoody with holes in it, a faded logo of the New York Giants on the back. Only one person has blond hair with faded pink tips.   
Sehun checks his watch, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.   
It’s well past 1 am already and it’s really, really cold. Baekhyun is shivering violently, Sehun can see it even from a few feet away. He is sure that the boy is sitting there for hours already and it will only get colder tonight.   
“Kindness, Sehun. It’s the key to being human.”, Jongin used to say. “Where will we end up if we live our lives ignoring each other and those in need?”  
Sehun swallows around a lump in his throat and starts moving again. It’s been months since he last touched somebody willingly and he realizes that he is stuck in a bubble of fear when he comes to a halt directly behind the blond, hand hovering over his shoulder already.  
There will be negative emotions crashing down over his head like a wave again if he touches him now. It the middle of the night, it’s icy and Baekhyun is cold and alone out here.  
Who wouldn’t be?  
There is no way the boy could be happy out here.   
And Sehun can’t take any more pain right now, but he has to be brave. He has to be brave for Jongin. Because Jongin wanted Sehun to live and not close himself off.   
“Kindness, Sehun.”  
So he slowly leans forward and places his fingers against Baekhyuns shoulder in a soft pat, holding his breath and making himself ready for the onslaught of negativity.   
Hope. I know I’m stupid.   
His breath hitches and Baekhyun whirls around, eyes wide and he clutches something between his fingers, crumpled and a little bit wet. It’s a money bill, one with folding creases.  
“Oh, hi!”, Baekhyun squeaks and presses his closed hands against his own chest as if to calm his heart. It’s probably racing. “W-what are you doing out here?”  
Sehun blinks. He blinks again and breathes out slowly. The spark of hope he just felt is still burning hot inside his chest and it feels like a firework going off inside Sehuns head.   
“I’ve…”, he starts and then breaks off and clears his throat. “I’ve been out with friends.”  
There it is again, that sadness flying over Baekhyuns face like a shadow.   
It’s there and then it’s gone again, so fast Sehun isn’t sure it was really there.   
“Must have been nice.”, Baekhyun whispers and looks down at his lap, twisting around on the bench to look at him properly. His cheeks are red, his nose is running a bit and his lips have broken open at one spot. The blood there is dry already, but the cut is fresh and for a moment Sehun thinks that maybe Baekhyun had been beaten.   
“Not really.”, he answers honestly and Baekhyuns eyes travel up to his face again.   
“I’m not really… the type to go out.”  
Baekhyun is silent for a heartbeat, before he starts chuckling softly. “I already guessed.”  
Sehun cocks his head to the side, blinking in confusion, licking over his bottom lip and asks: “What are you doing out here, Baekhyun? It’s cold. You should go home.”  
The boy holds his breath, his throat bobbing, eyes suddenly glistening with tears and he turns around so fast again, Sehun feels like he said something wrong.   
“You… don’t have anywhere to go, right?”, he states softly and Baekhyuns shoulders draw up towards his neck. He is curling in on himself slowly and Sehun knows that if he would touch him now, there would be no hope, no happiness.   
“Baekhyun.”, he urges gently and the boys head snaps up. Their eyes meet, Baekhyuns full of tears and Sehuns almost void of any emotion. “You don’t have a place to stay.”  
It’s not a question and Baekhyun swallows, mouth opening and closing again without a sound coming out.   
“No.”, comes the answer finally, so silent Sehun almost misses it.   
“Kindness, Sehun. You have to be kind to other people. Treat them the way you want to be treated.”, Jongins voice rings in his ears and Sehun has to close his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by emotions welling up inside of him, his heart clenching.   
“You could… stay the night at my place.”, Sehun suggests, all in one breath and watches Baekhyun tense in front of him, so he tags on: “On the couch. You’re going to freeze to death out here.”  
That might have been the point though, if Sehun looks at Baekhyun closely.   
“Why?”, Baekhyun justs asks quietly and Sehun answers: “Treat people the way you want to be treated. I can’t leave you out here.”  
Baekhyun looks torn, chewing on his bottom lip until he has broken through the skin of his cut again, wincing at the sharp pain and then sucking on the spot, tinting his tongue red.   
Sehun stays silent while Baekhyun thinks it over, hands in his pockets and burying his chin inside of his scarf. Baekhyun doesn’t have a scarf, he notes. He doesn’t look like he has a jacket either. The boys body twists in on itself, he sucks on his bottom lip a final time and then nods before he stuffs the bill he is still holding in his hand into the pocket of his jeans and grabs his backpack. When he gets up from the bench, he eyes Sehun up and down wearily and Sehun can’t even be angry at him for it.   
It’s not everyday you get invited to stay the night at a strangers place without an ulterior move. Sehun doesn’t do stuff like this though. He stands there, unmoving while Baekhyun rocks up and down on the balls of his feet in what seems to be a habit of his.   
“Where do you live?”, Baekhyun asks, voice soft and curious and Sehun jerks his head to the left. “Down this block. It’s not that far away.”  
It really isn’t that far. Sehun earns more than enough money for the three room apartment he rents in one of the larger buildings- not one of those flashy skyscrapers with the walls made of glass and the city underneath your feet, always in the middle of the throng of what happens around you. Jongin didn’t want an apartment like this and Sehun had rented his boyfriend liked best. Yes, his old loft was a lot better for painting, to always surround him with his art. But his flat meant spending time with Jongin, sleeping next to Jongin every night because Jongin always hated the smell of fresh paint that always lingered in Sehuns old place. There is still a little sign on the apartment door announcing “welcome!” that Sehun didn’t bother to remove- why should he? Jongin was pretty adamant when he tried to convince Sehun that their place shouldn’t just be a couple of rooms, but a home to them - and Baekhyun studies the sign intently, leans around Sehun while he unlocks the door to read the names on the doorbell.  
“Oh and Kim?”, the boy asks, his voice high and soft and Sehun swallows. “You’re living with someone? Which one of those is your last name?”  
Slate gray, pale violet, plum purple.   
It’s so different from Jongins voice. It’s gentle and faint and Sehun feels the sudden need to make Baekhyun laugh for real to hear if it sounds like he imagines inside of his head right now. Would it sound like gold and lemon chiffon, like lavender and corn silk?  
“Oh.”, Sehun answers reluctantly and shoves the door open, stepping aside to let Baekhyun in. “And… I used to. Come in please.”  
“I see.”, Baekhyun simply states and slinks past Sehun into the narrow, empty hallway.   
He doesn’t ask, just stands there and toes his shoes off and Sehun is thankful for it.  
He nearly misses how Baekhyuns eyes scan the wall in the hallway, how they linger on Jongins picture and how his mouth goes slack, forming that little kitten pout Sehun has already shoved into the mental drawer with Baekhyuns name on it.   
“So your name is Oh Sehun?”, Baekhyun asks and it’s pretty clear that it’s just to fill the awkward silence that forms between them, not that they are standing inside the apartment and Baekhyun looks like he isn’t sure if he wants to bolt or stay, clutching his backpack to his chest like it’s a wall between him and Sehun.   
“Yes.”, Sehun answers him and slips out of his coat, hanging it on the coat rack behind the door before he motions Baekhyun to follow him. The apartment is silent and dark and normally Sehun doesn’t switch on the lights because he doesn’t need them, but he does it anyways because Baekhyun doesn’t know the place and the boy is uncomfortable enough as it is. He would be uncomfortable too, Sehun thinks to himself while he waves a hand at the couch and mutters: “If you want to, I can fix you a cup of tea or something.”  
“You don’t have to.”, Baekhyun mutters, eyes cast down at his feet, backpack still clutched between his arms. “You’re already doing enough with letting me stay here.”  
“That’s nothing.”, Sehun replies and turns on his heel to wander into the kitchen, rummaging through his cabinets until he notices he has exactly one kind of tea.  
He stands in the kitchen, glaring at the little cardboard box with tea bags he holds and he nearly drops it when he hears Baekhyun say: “I’m not picky, you know? Camomile is fine.”  
Sehun looks at him in silence.  
When the tea is steaming between them on the kitchen table and Baekhyun munches on a cookie- the package is expired but again Baekhyun said he isn’t picky and the cookies are still good and it would be a shame if Sehun would throw them out- silence has settled over them like a thick blanket.   
Sehun opens his mouth several times and closes it again just like Baekhyun had in the park.   
“We don’t have to talk.”, Baekhyun suddenly declares with a smile that slightly dazzles Sehun. He’s stunned into silence, starts to stutter and Baekhyun laughs, bright and clear and unrestrained. He was wrong. It’s corn silk, sea shell, thistle with a splash of hot pink.  
Sehun feels heat pool in his stomach.   
And he doesn’t know why.   
“You’re so weird.”, Baekhyun mumbles into his cup and Sehun feels his cheeks grow hot.  
The silence settles again and Sehun fumbles with his own cup, Baekhyun sipping noisily on the other side of the table, kicking his feet out underneath his chair slowly.   
“I’m gonna go get you a pillow and a blanket.”, Sehun decides even though his cup is still more than half full and his cookie is untouched on the plate. Baekhyun shakes his head violently all of a sudden, almost getting up until Sehun lifts a hand and says gently:   
“It’s no problem.”  
“But… But I haven’t showered in at least three days and-”  
“Then I’ll get fresh clothes and a towel too. Just put your clothes in the washing machine, okay? I’m… I need to settle for the night.”  
Baekhyuns eye grow large, sadness evident in his chocolate and cinnamon brown orbs and Sehun nearly wants to stay with him. He wants to talk to him- for just a bit longer.   
A few minutes maybe. No, he tells himself, no he needs to turn in for the night.  
He isn’t a peoples person after all.   
“Drink your tea, Baekhyun.”, he orders, sounding tired and pats Baekhyuns shoulder as he passes him, fingers brushing against the worn out shirt and slipping into a hole along the seam. Sehun stills. For one, Baekhyun isn’t wearing anything underneath, his naked skin is still cold to Sehuns touch. And the second thing is…   
Longing. If only I were more than just a charity project.   
He retreats his hand too fast and Baekhyun looks so hurt, Sehun wants to reach out again.  
Jongin always looked like this too when Sehun didn’t want to touch him in the beginning.  
Things are different with Baekhyun though, right? He doesn’t want to be at a point where he touches Baekhyun… right? There is… no way Baekhyun could ever… want this.  
Want Sehun.  
“Good night, Baekhyun.”, Sehun whispers and Baekhyun blinks rapidly to get rid of the tiny tears that are clinging to his lashes as he replied: “Good night Sehun.”  
And like he said, Sehun puts a pillow, a blanket and a set of clothes on the coffee table while he hears Baekhyun clean the cups in the kitchen, singing under his breath.  
It’s been so long since Sehun last heard someone sing inside this farce of a home. 

 

When Sehun wakes up, he rolls over and looks up at his window.   
There is a soft sheen of snow covering it. White. Sehun hates white lately.   
He rolls over again and presses his face into Jongins pillow, smelling faintly like cologne and then something hits him. The pillow doesn’t smell anymore. Not really, no.   
But there is something else - and it’s wrong. Sehun sits up in his bed, throws off his duvet and cards a hand through his hair, turning his head towards the door.   
It smells like coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

There are slices of bread on the table, a tiny plate of butter right next to it and Sehun thinks he is going insane. He slowly pats over to the fridge, opens it and half expects it to be full of healthy food like soy milk and vegetables. He expects left-overs from yesterday in a Tupperware box, the ever present sticky note telling him to not forget to eat.   
There is milk in there, a glass of cherry jam, a stick of butter, the wrapper torn and clumsily folded back around the milky good. Sehun stares, eyes wide and mouth hanging open and nearly hits his head on the fridge door when Baekhyuns voice rings through the kitchen.  
“Hey, you’re awake!”, he smiles and Sehun takes note of the water dripping from his hair, how red his cheeks are from something other than the cold outside.   
His skin looks rosy - misty rose - and he nearly drowns in the shirt Sehun laid out for him last night. The smile slowly slips from Baekhyuns face and he bites his bottom lip, makes the cut there split open again and Sehun winces instead of Baekhyun himself.   
“Is… something wrong?”  
“My fridge… was empty…”, Sehun stutters and Baekhyun flushes crimson. He draws in on himself and his face falls and Sehun catches himself that he wants to reach out and reassure him. Why?   
“Yeah, well, uhm.”, Baekhyun starts and then heaves a sigh. “I thought… you were so good to me and took me in for the night and-”  
“You went out shopping… for me.”, Sehun ponders and Baekhyun coughs awkwardly at the door. He squirms where he is standing and Sehun shuts the fridge.   
“I didn’t take any money from you!”, Baekhyun hurries to interrupt him from any thought that might cross his mind and Sehun almost jumps out of his own skin.   
“I… didn’t… even think that.”, he states slowly, carefully and Baekhyuns blush only darkens.   
But his questions seem to be written all over his face and the blond boy mumbles:   
“You gave me those fifty bucks, remember? I didn’t… spend them.”  
“You kept them? For over a week?”, Sehun asks bewildered and slowly sinks down into one of the kitchen chairs. He folds his hands on the table, swallows hard around the lump that is rapidly forming in his throat and Baekhyun all but falls into the other chair, nearly throwing himself over the table to reach for Sehuns hands, only stopping short before he touches him for real. Sehun doesn’t even flinch away from it. He is lost in a thought, eyes burning and he draws in a breath, just as Baekhyun tries to explain, voice desperate:   
“I’m sorry if this was wrong, but- ugh, I’m so stupid! I know I shouldn’t have used your key to go out and come back again, but I didn’t want to leave just like that and you did so much for me and there was no food in the house and I thought-”  
Sehun lifts a hand to stop him and Baekhyun shuts himself up, leans back in his chair and looks like he is about to cry. With Jongin, this would have been a moment for Sehun to reach out and take his hand so he would know what the other was feeling, but right now his own emotions are more than enough- too much already, if Sehun is being honest.   
His voice is thick with those emotions, his eyes flickering back and forth between Baekhyuns own as he breathes out: “It wasn’t wrong. It’s just- he always did the… the groceries.”  
“He?”, Baekhyun echoes, sounding small and lost and Sehun chuckles sadly.   
“Jongin.”  
“Oh, the other one living here?”, Baekhyun prompts and gestures with his hands and Sehun nods, still feeling a little bit numb. Understanding dawns on Baekhyuns face, slowly, but it’s there. Sehun doesn’t want him to understand. There is nothing to understand because people always think that Jongin left him, or Sehun left Jongin.   
Technically speaking, Jongin left, yes. Not like that though.   
“He’s gone.”, he just says, finally and Baekhyun grimaces. He throws a glance over his shoulder, into the hallway- to Jongins picture even though it’s not visible from the kitchen.   
“Do you like cherries, Sehun?”, Baekhyun asks and the cheerful tone of his voice makes Sehun raise his eyebrows slowly. The blond beams at him, eyes crinkling and his normally soft pouty mouth pulls into a rectangular grin. He hops off the chair and walks to the cabinet with the cups, as if he is at home in Sehuns apartment.   
“Two spoons of sugar, just a little bit of milk, no cream.”, he sing-songs while he pours thick black coffee into the cup - Sehuns favorite cup no less and he shakes his head at himself, calling himself an idiot when he feels that heat curl in his stomach again.   
The cup slides across the table and comes to a stop in front of Sehun, prepared perfectly and before Sehun knows it, there is a slice of toast in front of him and the cherry jam stands open next to his cup.   
“Dig in!”, Baekhyun chirrups and bites into a scrunching piece of bread. There are crumbs falling onto Sehuns Hard Rock Cafe shirt the boy wears, a bit of cherry jam sticks to the corner of his mouth and he is smiling so widely, Sehun can’t help but smile back.  
Just a twitch of the corners of his mouth but Baekhyuns own smile widens a tad and it’s radiating. It’s not like Sehun doesn’t see the scars running along Baekhyuns forearms, straight and crossed in a zigg-zagg line, white against his creamy skin.  
“Why aren’t you going home?”, Sehun asks after they stand next to each other by the counter, Baekhyun drying off the dishes and Sehun putting them away- a bit like they’ve always done this together.   
In those moments, when other people show their emotions so freely, Sehun thinks that it must be nice to not feel what other people feel. That the weight of one's own emotions are a weight to carry on their own. Normally people don’t wear their heart on their sleeves, but Baekhyun does. All his feelings show on the smaller boys face, always.   
Sadness, despair, fear.   
“I can’t.”, he sighs out, tears audible around the words. “It’s… complicated.”  
“So you really have no place to stay? Do you have work?”, Sehun keeps pressing the matter and Baekhyun shakes his head, head down and hair falling into his face.   
And Sehun realizes that there is nothing he can do.   
“Will you be out by the corner again later?”, he questions while Baekhyun struggles to pull his hoodie over his head, pushing his fingers into the holes around the edges of his sleeves. He looks cold already, like the thought of going out there alone is enough to make him shiver. The boy is still wearing Sehuns shirt, underneath the flimsy thing that should be a pullover.   
“What do you do with all this money, anyways, Sehun?”  
“What-”, Baekhyun begins when Sehun moves a bit closer and wraps one of his older woolen scarfs around the boys neck, pulling it tight and knotting it at the front.   
“You’re going to be cold out there.”, Sehun simply says and Baekhyun looks like he wants to cry. Sehun tries to ignore the tears that start to fall just as Sehun presses another bill into Baekhyuns hand, folds his fingers around it before he can look at the numbers on it and says: “Please buy a jacket, Baekhyun. They said it’s going to snow the whole week.”

 

The tiny bell above the door chimes softly, when the door swings open and then closed again, the sound ringing through the whole store gently. The shelves are still a mess, there are boxes full of new articles stacked in the aisle with the brushes and the acryl paint.  
Sehun can hear Chanyeol hum in the back of the store, his deep voice audible even over the radio songs playing from the speakers.  
The tall man is crouching down by the counter, sorting in small jars of fabric dye into the display next to the cash register and as Sehun clears his throat behind him, the silver haired man almost jumps out of his own skin. He drops the couple of tiny glasses he holds between his big hands, juggling frantically to catch them all before they would crash on the floor, letting out a small breath when he manages to catch them, head turning to look up at Sehun, who tries not to smile into his fist.   
“Jesus Christ, Sehun!”, Chanyeol breathes and starts chuckling softly. “What brings you here? You were buying paint like crazy lately! Did you forget something?”  
“No.”, Sehun shakes his head and lets his eyes travel over the store, over the familiar mess, the stacks of canvases, the shelves full of spray paint cans and boxes overflowing with products on sale. “I was wondering if you still needed help in here.”  
“You mean the replacement for Jongin?”, Chanyeol asks, standing up from his crouching position as he dusts off his hands. He frowns when he notices Sehun wince and look to the side. “Uh… you mean…”  
“Yes.”, Sehun interrupts him and Chanyeol bites down on his bottom lip, again embarrassed. It’s okay, Sehun wants to tell him even if he thinks that it’s not really okay.   
“Actually yes, I do.”, Chanyeol tries to maneuver them out of the awkward atmosphere lingering around them. “Why? Don’t you earn more than enough with your paintings?”  
Sehun fidgets slightly, curling his fingers around the edges of his sleeves.   
“I have this friend….”, he starts and Chanyeols eyes widen. He leans back against the counter, crosses his arms over his broad chest and Sehun suddenly feels small under his gaze. He can only guess what is going on inside of Chanyeols head now.   
He comes in here, after practically fleeing from the bar and asks for a job- not for himself but for a friend. He told Chanyeol Jongin is his friend when the taller asked him what was going on between the two of them.   
“A friend, huh?”, Chanyeol prompts and Sehun tries not to blush.   
He and Baekhyun are just friends. Nothing more and Baekhyun needs the money.  
“Yes, a friend.”, he repeats with a little bit more force than is necessary and Chanyeols left eyebrow shoots up. It’s darker than his hair, Sehuns brain registers. Where his hair is dyed a silver ivory, his eyebrows are stark black. It bugs him a little, if he is being honest, but he would never say it out loud.  
“He… doesn’t have a job or a place to stay and I know you’ve moved out and maybe you need a roommate and I’m really worried about him because he doesn’t even have a jacket and he’s going to freeze and starve and oh god, I should have given him a jacket instead of money, I’m so stupid-”, Sehun starts to ramble, until Chanyeol begins to laugh and claps a giant hand down on Sehun shoulder.   
Amusement, a hint of joy. He’s starting to care for someone else again.   
The thought makes Sehun choke on air, his chest tightening painfully. He cares for Baekhyun, yes, but not like that.   
“You know, you’re really weird when you’re embarrassed.”, Chanyeol snickers and Sehun wants to kick him in the chin. “But don’t worry, I really do need a roommate. And some help in the store.”  
“Really?”   
He shouldn’t sound this hopeful, Sehun thinks. This is not about him but about someone he doesn’t even know. Not really at least. And still there is this issue about Baekhyun not having any money and there is no way Chanyeol will let the boy stay with him for nothing but a big thank you. And Sehun thinks that being alive is nothing but a big fight for survival after all.  
In the end, everything comes down to money.   
“I’m willing to pay for his stay at your place for the first month!”, he quickly says and Chanyeol rolls his eyes, squeezing Sehuns shoulder softly.   
Curiousity. Who is this friend that he is doing all this for him?  
“Don’t worry about that, okay? If he is working here, I’ll make sure he earns enough for the rent and food.”, he tells Sehun and the painter lets out a small breath.   
“But the first month-”  
“Just pay for his food and everything will be alright.”, Chanyeol cuts him off again and Sehun suddenly remembers why Jongin always liked the tall man so much.   
“Thank you.”, he whispers and Chanyeols hand slips from his shoulder. The constant stream of emotions coming from the cashier and store owner ends abruptly. Sehun can breathe again. His chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore and he isn’t too sure anymore, if the thoughts about Jongin were his, or Chanyeols.  
“Just get his ass in here and I’m gonna talk to him.”, Chanyeol declares. “But a friend of yours is a friend of mine and if he is in dire need, who am I to decline a noble request?”  
He places a dramatic hand on his chest and Sehun rolls his eyes.  
“You’re an idiot.”, Sehun snorts and Chanyeol laughs.  
“And you’re smiling more than I’ve ever seen since Jongin left us.”  
Chanyeols words hurt like little needles under his skin. Because they’re true. 

 

Baekhyun stands by the corner again, but there is no cup in his hand this time. Just the umbrella, his free hand clutching the end of his woolen scarf- Sehuns woolen scarf.   
It’s a gentle royal blue and it looks wonderful against Baekhyuns white skin. Almost like the wave of a deep blue ocean, topped with white foam and spindrift.   
Sehun stops walking suddenly, eyes growing wide when the world starts blurring around him again, the sound of rolling waves and the soft crashing of water against a shore fills his ears.   
Baekhyun isn’t just happiness, Sehun realizes.   
He is gentle, soft and sweet and at the same time he is strong and sweeps through Sehuns head like a thunderstorm. He is confused, so so confused, but he pushes the thoughts back into his mind-drawers and locks them away.   
He’s close to the blond when the smaller spots him, waving excitedly and the umbrella almost slips from his hand and Baekhyun giggles as he catches it. Sehun doesn’t need to hear the sound of it to know that is sounds beautiful.   
“Hi!”, Baekhyun beams, cheeks red and eyes twinkling and Sehun notes that the blond has to tilt his head back to look up at Sehuns face. “I was waiting for you!”  
“You were?”, Sehun asks, surprised and Baekhyun nods so fast, his fringe bobs up and down and falls into his face. “Why were you waiting for me?”  
“I wanted to show you my jacket to let you know I actually listened to what you said!”, Baekhyun announces with a bright smile and Sehun makes a soft: “Huh.”  
And it’s true. Baekhyun is wearing a jacket, warm and filled with down feathers, the sleeves so long they nearly swallow his fingers. It’s too dark, Sehun decides inside of his head.   
It shouldn’t be black, but maybe light gray.   
The jacket seems like it’s too big for Baekhyun not only in size but in what it makes him look like too. As if Baekhyun pretends to be bigger than he actually is.   
“You did.”, Sehun nods and Baekhyuns smile seems to grow brighter. “I’m glad.”  
“I wanted to thank you again.”, the smaller boy chimes, reaching out with his free hand to take Sehuns and for once, he really doesn’t feel the need to recoil from the touch.  
“I got you a job.”, he states before Baekhyuns fingers touch his hand and when they do, the only thought that reaches him is confusion.  
“A…. job?”, Baekhyun echoes and Sehun nods, reluctant and not sure if he really did something good. Isn’t he controlling the life of someone he doesn’t know?   
“In the art store I normally buy my supplies at.”, Sehun tells him and Baekhyun blinks so fast, his eyelids are almost invisible. “They need a cashier.”  
“Oh!”, Baekhyun makes and then he’s in Sehuns arms.   
Gratitude, happiness, the overwhelming feeling of something else. Why does he care for me so much? How do I even deserve this?  
Sehun stiffens and Baekhyun lets go of him, blushing so deep that his ears turn even redder than they already are from the cold. His mouth is moving, but Sehun doesn’t catch what he is saying because his ears are ringing with the feelings that still linger inside of his mind.  
“Thank you. I can never repay you for this.”  
The words slowly register in his head and Sehun clears his throat.   
“You don’t have to repay me for anything.”, he says gently and Baekhyuns eyes start to glisten with tears again. “I never asked for anything, right?”  
“No… no you didn’t.”, Baekhyun whispers and then starts chewing on his bottom lip.  
“And the owner is a friend of mine… he has a spare room too. You don’t have to sleep on the streets anymore, okay? Promise me you won’t sleep on the streets anymore.”, Sehun urges and Baekhyun looks up at him, teeth still digging into his bottom lip.  
The tips of his lashes are already wet with tears, his nose is slowly scrunching up and Sehun wants to reach out and smooth the little wrinkles between his eyebrows with his fingers.   
“I promise.”, the smaller boy breathes out and Sehun jerks a thumb over his shoulder.   
“Chanyeol wants you to come over and talk this over. He’s really nice, you don’t have to worry about anything.”  
He has an arm full of Baekhyun in the blink of an eye again, his own arms wrapping around the smallers frame on instinct before he even realizes he is doing it.   
Overwhelming gratitude. A sense of belonging. God, I wish you would stay with me.

 

Sometimes the world only consists of sounds and colors and sometimes the sounds fade out and Sehun is left with nothing but colors. Those days are slowly growing less.   
When he rolls over in his bed and looks up at his window, he doesn’t frown anymore.  
The floor is still cold underneath his feet when he gets up and out of bed. He doesn’t scowl at his reflection anymore and thinks he should get a haircut. Because he did.   
His hair is no longer too long, is falling softly into his eyes brown and cut short at the sides.   
He doesn’t know if he thinks that it looks good, or if he can’t get used to it.   
It’s different from what he had before and Sehun is still looking at himself in the mirror with slightly wider eyes. Something is changing and Sehun can’t place his finger on it.   
There is coffee in the cabinet, three different brands of tea. He has food in the fridge and sometimes he even manages to cook for himself. It’s still lonely to eat dinner at the deserted table, to have only one plate to clean, but it’s getting better.   
He doesn’t mind that much anymore.  
When the doorbell rings, Sehun grabs his second cup of coffee from the counter, wipes his fingers on his completely ruined shirt and leaves faint blue streaks across his chest.   
It’s Baekhyun, hair wet and slightly panting, but he is grinning.   
“Hey ho!”, he sing songs and holds up a bag with art supplies. “Delivery for Oh Sehun.”  
Sehun snorts out a laugh. “That’s me.”  
“Perfect!”, the smaller boy chimes and brushes past Sehun, their arms touching.   
Excitement. Fluttering in his stomach. He looks like he just rolled out of bed.  
Sehun tries to ignore what he just picked up and closes the door while Baekhyun rushes into the kitchen and starts spreading Sehuns order on the table.  
“Spray paint, medium gray, orchid and corn silk- why do you need so much of that? It’s the second time you’re getting this.”, Baekhyun lists, shooting Sehun a curious look and Sehun just lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. The blond just rolls his eyes and continues, pointing to each item he lists with one slender index finger: “Three filbert brushes, two fan brushes, three sizes of mop brushes. Canvas base, transparent. That all, mister painter?”  
“I guess?”, Sehun laughs and Baekhyun strolls over to where Sehun is leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, the same casual air around him as the first time he was here, and takes Sehuns coffee cup from between his fingers. He takes a sip, gives Sehun a wink and makes his way back to the door, rummaging around in the pocket of his jacket to find his wallet. “Chanyeol told me to give you this months check. You’ve been ordering a lot lately.”  
Sehun is well aware of that, honestly. He shrugs again and Baekhyun holds out a small envelope to him, the edges slightly wet from the rain.   
“And we expect you at our place tomorrow at seven. It’s been a month since I moved in with Chanyeol and he wants to celebrate that I didn’t blow up the kitchen yet.”, Baekhyun says as casually as he can, but Sehun can see that he is nervous. He doesn’t need his ability to pick that up. It’s been a while since he met Baekhyun for the first time. It’s a bit too often that he finds himself wandering into the store even if he doesn’t need anything in particular- just to see Baekhyun. Because he needs to check if the boy is alright, nothing more.  
“Uhm-”, he begins and Baekhyun gives him a stern look, pointing a finger at him.   
“Don’t say no, Sehun. I’ve… It would be good for you to get out of the house for a bit.”, he almost begs and Sehun has to look away. The blonds expression reminds him too much of Jongin in his last hours, the hopeful tone in his voice, the way he is looking at Sehun as if he is trying to will him with the power if his mind to do what he asks of him.  
He finds himself looking at Jongins picture right next to him at the wall, silent and smiling and a constant reminder of what Sehun sacrificed. He hears Baekhyun step closer carefully.   
“Is he the reason Chanyeol was talking about an anniversary for you?”  
The question catches him off guard because he didn’t think Chanyeol would ever talk to a stranger about Jongin and what happened to him, but he finds himself nodding nevertheless.   
“Chanyeol always goes to Jongins favorite bar when it’s anniversary. But he does that every month. I don’t think he even remembers it’s Jongins favorite place.”, he manages to get out through a clogged throat.   
“Uh… why does he do that?”, Baekhyun asks silently and Sehun looks back at the smaller male, who is now standing right next to him, looking at Jongins photograph too.   
“Because they were friends. Once a month they went out to party and get hammered and I was always the one driving them home because I don’t really drink.”, Sehun answers him truthfully and Baekhyun turns his head to the side, eyes flickering back and forth between Sehun and the picture.   
“He was your boyfriend, right?”, comes the quiet question and Sehun doesn’t even need to answer because his face is answer enough. “Did he…”  
“He died.”, Sehun says a little bit too quickly and Baekhyun holds his breath. “He was diagnosed with Huntington's around two years into our relationship.”   
He lets out a silent laugh, rakes a hand through his hair and shakes his head.  
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”  
“You don’t have to.”, Baekhyun smiles up at him and pats his arm gently.   
Pity. Admiration. He’s so strong.   
“I’m not…”,Sehun whispers and his voice breaks. Baekhyun pulls his hand away a bit too fast. He looks confused, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Soft, pouty.   
Sehun realizes that he doesn’t even feel hurt anymore because Jongin is gone. He misses him, terribly so. But he is starting to let go- finally. Eventually.   
“I mean.”, he quickly adds, to save the situation. “I’m not eh… trying to say that I don’t want to tell you. I just didn’t think you want to know about… this. Me.”  
“Why wouldn’t I?”, Baekhyun smiles, leaning to the side, hands folded in front of his stomach. “I like you. You’re the best thing that happened to me in my entire life.”  
He blushes as soon as the words are out of his mouth and he doesn’t look at Sehun for the rest of his stay, but he doesn’t run away either. Or take his words back.   
And Sehun can’t stop thinking about what he said.   
He paints a smile this afternoon, the corner of a mouth, fingers that are brushing back light hair, tucking it away behind his ear. Rosy brown, burly wood, navajo white. 

 

Chanyeol nearly drops his towel, mouth hanging open as he stares at Baekhyun with an utterly bewildered look on his face. “He told you what?”  
Baekhyun swallows his mouthful of yogurt, kicks his feet out and lets his heels bang against the kitchen cabinet he is sitting on top of. “He told me about Jongin. Is that… bad?”  
“No!”, Chanyeol exclaims loudly and shakes his head, little drops of water falling onto his face. “No, god no. It’s not bad, it’s just… seems like he likes you a lot if he talked about Jongin. He never talks about Jongin. Never. Not even I talk about Jongin when he’s close by.”  
“Why?”, Baekhyun asks, shoving another spoon full of yogurt into his mouth. It’s too much and he struggles to swallow. “Is it still a touchy topic?”  
“Baekhyun.”, Chanyeol states sternly and Baekhyun stops his kicking, slumped over a little bit because he was about to take another spoon. Chanyeol steps a little closer and leans against the counter with one hip. “What exactly did Sehun tell you about Jongin?”  
Baekhyun hesitates. Just a second. Then he shrugs and says: “That he died because of the Huntington's disease. Nothing more. And that he was his boyfriend.”  
“They wanted to marry when Jongin got his diagnosis.”, Chanyeol says as if it’s not an information that has Baekhyun nearly spitting out his yogurt. “That’s pretty cliche.”  
“Of course it is. Everything about Sehun and Jongin was a giant cliche.”, the tall silver haired man waves a hand around nonchalantly. “Sehun being the recluse that he is and Jongin being the weird hipster kid with the glasses and the comic books. A real Nicholas Sparks novel, honestly.”  
Baekhyun falls silent after that, leaning back on the counter and placing his yogurt by his leg, the spoon balancing dangerously on the edge of the plastic cup. Chanyeol doesn’t notice. He just walks over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and taking a few sips before he goes on: “I was friends with Jongin ever since College and he always had a thing for trouble. I wasn’t really a fan of Sehun when I first met him, I have to admit that. I thought he was weird.”  
“He is weird.”, Baekhyun whispers, but again Chanyeol doesn’t listen. He flops back in his chair by the tiny kitchen table for two, stretches his legs out and wraps his towel around his neck tightly. He grins lopsidedly, leans his head onto his hand and says:   
“They were a nice couple though. Really in love with each other and so on, you get the drill, right? So when Jongin got his diagnosis he thought Sehun would leave him. He kept talking about being in pain and that he is scared that Sehun is sharing too much of his pain and that he would leave him. I told him he’s an idiot because Jongin was a fucking huge idiot.”  
Baekhyun still sits silently on the counter, hands in his lap and eyes burning, head downcast.   
He doesn’t want to hear this. He needs to though, needs to hear it because he wants to know more about Sehun, wants to understand him. And if this means he needs to listen to Sehuns wonderful love story with another man, then be it.   
But he is breaking inside because he thinks that you only find one person in your life that you will love unconditional. Jongin was that person for Sehun, Baekhyun is sure about that.   
And how could someone like Sehun ever fall in love with someone like Baekhyun?  
Broken, damaged, crazy Baekhyun.   
“Baek.”, Chanyeols voice rips him out of his thoughts and he looks up quickly. “Huh?”  
“I asked what you know about Huntington's.”, the taller repeats slowly and Baekhyun shakes his head: “Nothing much. Only that it’s… not nice.”  
Chanyeol scoffs into his water bottle. “Not nice. Joke of the century. It’s fucking nasty. And even nastier to watch someone who has it slowly wither. He went to see a doctor because he had those muscle spasms all of a sudden and then he comes back and has a terminal disease. Fucking nasty.”  
“You talk about this like it doesn’t even touch you.”, Baekhyun snaps and Chanyeol looks at him in surprise. “You’re talking about your friend who died, Chanyeol!”  
“I know.”, Chanyeol replies, voice softer suddenly. “But I have come to terms with his death, Baekhyun. He’s been gone for over a year now. It sucks that he died, but it’s the best for him. He would have been in terrible pain for years. Think about it.”  
“So it’s perfectly fine to talk about this like it doesn’t matter at all?!”  
“I never said that!”, Chanyeol defends himself and raises his hands slowly as if to soothe Baekhyun even though he shouldn’t be the one upset in this tiny kitchen. “Baek, listen. In the end he was barely able to stand or talk. He had to swallow tons of pills each day. He started to have mental issues because of that disease- he talked about suicide a lot and honestly, we should have seen it coming. And yes, I was fucking angry at him.”  
It’s silent in the kitchen after that. Baekhyun stares at Chanyeol and the taller of the two suddenly leans back in his chair, understanding dawning on his face and he opens his mouth slowly, closes it again and then mutters: “You didn’t know he killed himself.”  
“No.”, Baekhyun answers him, voice nothing more than a breath. “No, I didn’t.”  
And suddenly Sehuns remorse makes a lot more sense to him. 

 

That night, when everything becomes too much again and Baekhyun clutches the small kitchen knife he smuggled away into his room after he moved in with Chanyeol, he suddenly stills, knife already on his thigh to cut into his flesh. He already has so many scars, he thinks to himself and runs a thumb over the one on his left thigh. It’s from when his mother forced him to shave his legs for the first time and the knife he holds against his skin digs in a little harder. His only way of coping with this all was to hurt himself. But now it’s over, isn’t it?  
He has a home now, has friends- has Sehun.  
What would Sehun think if he knew that he is hurting himself…?   
The knife falls to the mattress between his legs and Baekhyun starts to cry- silently, inaudibly, his body wrecked by choking sobs. He can’t do it. He just can’t although he wants to do it so much. He is craving the pain, craving the feeling of it and he doesn’t know why.   
It’s there, deep inside of him, this desire to punish himself, to make himself suffer for not standing up for himself his entire life. Someone else did, a voice inside his head says and Baekhyun slaps the knife away, listens to it clutter to the carpet and slide against the wall.   
He thinks of Sehun when he curls in on himself on top of his comforter, hands pressed to his face. To the way the older man always looks at him, like Baekhyuns thoughts matter, like Baekhyun matters. Sehun always holds his eyes- curious, studying. Like he wants to take in every little detail of his face.   
He wants to fall asleep with those thoughts in his head. He wants to think of Sehun, wants to dream of him and think of him first thing in the morning but it scares him. It scares him because Sehun is still in love with Jongin- how could he not? He never had the chance to close the story. This is not a normal break up story after all.  
Baekhyun doesn’t want to fall in love with Sehun but maybe it’s already too late.   
Who knows? At least Sehun is the reason he doesn’t want to hurt himself anymore. 

 

“I never thought you’d be the type to play pool.”, Baekhyun informs Sehun the next day when they have managed to get out of the apartment and into the bar, Chanyeols voice booming loudly over the music from where he is telling a joke to the others who tagged along for the night. Sehun shrugs his one-shoulder-shrug and leans onto the billiard cue, motioning towards the table with one hand to tell Baekhyun it’s his turn.   
“I’m not.”, he smiles and the movement of his mouth has something almost shy to it.   
Baekhyun lifts his eyebrows at him, as if to say “really, who are you kidding?” and then leans over to take aim. The white ball misses by around half an inch and Sehun chuckles into his beer.   
“Oh shut up.”, Baekhyun hisses playfully at him and Sehun cocks his head to the side quickly, as if to taunt him. “You’re a man of many talents it seems! What are you hiding from me, huh?”  
His finger pokes hard into the space between Sehuns ribs and the taller all but jumps away from him, rubbing the spot and pulling a face.   
Longing. The need to be closer than this. I wish I could be the same thing to you.  
Baekhyun looks hurt again and Sehun quickly says: “I’m ticklish. Be careful. I tend to slap people on reflex.”  
The smaller looks like he doesn’t know if he is allowed to laugh for a few seconds, mouth twisting downwards and then he bursts out into this bright laughter of his.   
He leans forward, braces himself on the table and looks up at Sehun through his lashes, speaking around hiccupping chuckles. “You’re really fucking weird sometimes, Sehun.”  
“I know.”, Sehun smiles gently, taking a sip of his beer. “You tell me often enough.”  
“I like you best when you’re weird. More than I already do.”, Baekhyun giggles and then bites down hard on his bottom lip, seemingly shocked at his own words. He doesn’t take them back though. Baekhyun never takes anything back and Sehun wishes he could be the same.   
“I like your new hair color.”, he just says and Baekhyuns eyes find his, surprised and wide and open and oh so honest. Sehun catches himself reaching out slowly to touch a strand of now silky, light brown hair that sticks out from Baekhyuns head in an adorable little cow lick.   
Baekhyun sucks in a breath and Sehun finds himself wondering what he thinks.   
He wants to touch him, wants to reach out and touch the smaller just to know what is going on inside of his head. He never wishes for something like that. Never did. Maybe with Jongin, but he doesn’t really remember that.   
So he does it. His fingers settle on Baekhyuns shoulder, a hesitant touch and Baekhyun keeps so still, Sehun isn’t sure if he is breathing at all. Sehun isn’t braced for what he gets out of this, fingers feeling like they’re glued to Baekhyuns shoulder. It’s a clutter of emotions, confused and misplaced and Sehun needs a moment to sort them all.  
There is no thought, nothing to grasp for him, just…  
Happiness, bright and flaming hot. Yearning, small and hesitant. Hope. Brighter than ever.  
“Baekhyun.”, he hears himself whisper and Baekhyun breathes out slowly, as if he really was holding his breath all this time. Perhaps it’s just been a few seconds, or minutes, or an eternity. Sehun doesn’t care. Baekhyuns emotions are still swirling around inside of his head and he can’t hold on to them, because they are slipping through his fingers like water.  
“Yeah?”, Baekhyun makes, sounding scared and Sehun leans down and pecks his cheek.   
“You’re happiness.”  
He turns around after that, placing the billiard cue back where it belongs and slips into the booth with the other guys, falling silent while they talk around him, loud and cheerful and Sehun notices that he doesn’t miss Jongin as much as he normally does.   
Yes, the thought is there, this hole inside his chest, the glance to his side when his fingers flex because he longs to hold someones hand and concentrate on something else than all those people around him. His eyes find Baekhyun across the table and the smaller man smiles at him. It’s okay, he tells himself and smiles back, letting Chanyeol push another beer into his hand and sucking in the emotions of his silver haired friend.   
Happiness.   
Sehun is surrounded by it.   
“Thank you, Jongin.”, he whispers into his glass and Chanyeol next to him makes a sound of confusions and looks at him. “Did you say something, bro?”  
“No.”, Sehun shakes his head and lets his eyes flicker over to Baekhyun, who is talking animatedly to Jongdae about music. “I just said thanks for the beer.”  
Chanyeol pats him on the shoulder and Sehun lets him. He ignores the glances he gets from around the table, ignores Minseoks open mouth. He just focuses on the feeling lingering inside of his chest. The strongest one he got from Baekhyun today. He keeps it close to his heart like a treasure and if he could, he would place his hand over his chest and hold it in his palm as his anchor. It’s what Jongin always did for him and now that he is gone, Sehun has to do it on his own. It’s what Jongin would want. 

 

Sehun wants to laugh at Baekhyun while he watches him stumble all over himself, down the path in the park and towards one of the benches, angrily typing on his new phone. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t because something inside of him swells while looking at Baekhyun, while he looks at him being happy and well and not cold.   
The smaller gained a little bit of weight over the past month, his cheeks filled out nicely and his jacket not looking too big for him anymore. Baekhyun didn’t grow, no. It’s just that he seems to be… content. Like he holds himself straighter, head higher, smile brighter.   
And Sehuns heart feels like it’s going to burst when Baekhyun throws himself down on the bench and records a voice note, yelling into his phone: “Don’t worry Channie! I’m a big boy!”  
It’s the same bench Sehun found the boy this one night in February and asked him to come home with him so he wouldn’t freeze. For him, it’s like a milestone between them, the turning point of them. There isn’t a them, Sehun is aware of that, but he doesn’t care.   
“I used to cut myself.”, Baekhyun suddenly says loudly and Sehun stills. He hovers above the bench, as if he is unsure if he should sit down or not, eyes trained on Baekhyuns face.   
The smaller isn’t looking at him. He is looking straight ahead, at the glittering lights of the city. There is this look on his face Sehun doesn’t understand. This mix between sadness and relief. He’s seen it a couple of times already, has watched the look shift into a smile so heartbreaking, he wants to reach out and smooth it away.   
He never did and he doesn’t now.   
“I wanted to die a couple of times in my life already.”, Baekhyun continues quietly, eyes still looking straight ahead and a light gust of wind ruffles his chocolate brown hair. “I never had the courage to do it though.”  
“You think it’s brave to kill yourself?”, Sehun asks bitterly and Baekhyun turns on the bench to look at him with this heartbreaking smile of his, tears in his eyes as he answers:   
“Yes. Yes, I think so. Not for me. But for other people. I’m still here, am I not?”  
Sehun is silent and watches him, slowly sits down and folds his hands in his lap and Baekhyun breathes out a silent laugh. “You think I’m stupid, right?”  
“No.”, Sehun answers him, a bit clipped. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”  
The smaller brunette shrugs softly, leans back on the bench and tilts his head back, eyes closing and the corners of his mouth pulling up into a tiny, barely-there smile.   
“Maybe.”, he whispers. “Do you want to hear it? My terribly sobs story?”  
“You know mine.”, Sehun just replies and Baekhyun shakes his head. “You didn’t tell me though. Chanyeol did.”  
Sehun knows his shoulders are rigid by now, his fingers gripping each other so hard his knuckles are turning white. He grits his teeth, swallows and then leans back too, stretches out his legs and whispers: “You don’t know the truth though.”  
The other man on the bench shakes his head slowly, opens his eyes again and Sehun thinks that he can see an entire universe swimming inside of them. Bigger even than the one he painted inside of them those weeks ago.   
“You’re going to tell me one day, right? If you want to. If I don’t need to know, I don’t need to know.”, comes Baekhyuns silent answer and Sehun thinks that maybe he should share it all, that maybe that weight that is resting on his chest will be lifted, if he only gets it out of his mouth, tells someone what really happened that night when he came home and found Jongin on the couch, white as a sheet.   
“My mom is nuts.”  
“What?”  
“My mom is completely nuts.”, Baekhyun repeats and Sehun lifts an eyebrow slowly. The smaller chuckles to himself, drunkenly, fist balled in front of his mouth and Sehun realizes that he is about to cry. And again he wants to reach out, wants to place his hand on Baekhyuns shoulder and comfort him. But he doesn’t.  
He just lets Baekhyun talk.   
“She always wanted a girl. It was her dream since she was a young woman… to have a pretty little baby girl to call her own. My dad told me, you know? That she was so happy when she found out she was pregnant because she was sure it was going to be a girl.”   
He laughs, bitter and broken. Sehun knows the sound of that. It belongs into the world inside of his head. Sounds and colors. It’s dim gray instead of corn silk and Sehun doesn’t like it.  
“And when the doctor told her that it was going to be a boy, she didn’t believe him. She just walked out on him and told him he’s an idiot. My dad thought it was rather funny, you know?”, Baekhyun continues when Sehun stays silent and they aren’t looking at each other for once. The smaller is looking up, Sehun is looking down.   
Perhaps it’s a twisted version of how they are. Baekhyun, pretty and gentle Baekhyun, always smiling and looking up even though his life is a mess and Sehun himself has his eyes downcast all the time because he doesn’t dare to live.   
“And then I was born.”, Baekhyun tells him, pulling his legs up so he can circle his arms around them and lean his chin on the top of them. “A boy. I mean, okay, I look rather girly-”  
A sob escapes him and Sehun places his hand on his thigh, startling them both.   
Pain. Sorrow. Fear.   
He bites the inside of his cheek, swallows the bitter taste on his tongue, screws his eyes shut and Baekhyuns fingers find his, warm and soft. The emotions get stronger, threaten to swallow him whole but Baekhyuns voice keeps him grounded. Warm chocolate, sienna.   
“She pretended I was a girl. She really thought I was a girl, because she’s completely crazy. Can you believe that? She made me wear dresses and play with puppets and I didn’t know any better because I was a freaking child.”, he laughs, but there is no joy in his voice. “My father never pretended I was a girl. He did all the boy things with me. Playing soccer, buying me toy cars. Until he left of course. He met another woman and ran away with her because my whole family is a mess.”  
Sehun squeezes his thigh and Baekhyun squeezes his fingers in return. The grip they have on each other is strong but soft at the same time, like Sehun is an anchor for Baekhyun and not the one needing one for a change.   
“After this is got worse.”, Baekhyun goes on, shifting a little and Sehun thinks for a second that the other wants to be closer to this. He can’t tell though. He’s too distracted by the thoughts running through his veins that are not his own. “Mom still thought I was a girl, still treated me like a girl and forced me to do girl things. Shaving my legs, letting my hair grow, wearing make-up. Until she started to call me by my fathers name and come into my room in the middle of a night. She once almost killed me because I was resisting her.”  
The anger Sehun feels is his own entirely. It flares up hot inside of him, so bright that it drowns out the mess of Baekhyuns thoughts inside his mind. It makes everything else seem small, his heart beating fast and hard. It’s never been like this.   
He never feels his own emotions this strong when he is touching another person, but right now Baekhyuns sorrow is only a dim light inside his head.   
“She burned all my clothes.”, Baekhyun chuckles without any joy, his fingers running over the back of Sehuns hand in a gentle caress. “All the clothes I bought with my own money. It wasn’t much, really… I mean, I was home schooled and she never allowed me to leave the house alone because she was afraid people might notice how different I am. I had nothing left but the clothes I was wearing when you first met me. Because I ran away.”  
His anger slowly fades away into a dull aching inside his chest. It trickles down his spine in hot little rivulets and when he looks up from his shoes, Baekhyun meets his eyes and smiles.  
He just smiles.   
So bright, so broken, so hopeful and Sehun whispers: “You stopped, right?”  
Baekhyun doesn’t need to ask what Sehun is referring to. He holds Sehuns eyes in silence for a few heartbeats, breathing silently and still running the tips of his fingers over the taller mans hand. The city around them is silent, not a single sound to be heard, nothing but the silence of the night. A car swishes by behind the trees, it’s light dancing between the branches, illuminating the path by their feet with lights and curling shadows.   
“Because of you. After I heard what happened to Jongin.”, Baekhyun confesses hesitantly and Sehun digs his fingertips into Baekhyuns thigh before he lets his hand slip out underneath the boys own. It all makes sense, suddenly. The hope he feels when ever he touches Baekhyun, the way the smaller seems to always linger when they meet, how he smiles up at Sehun with those twinkling eyes. Chocolate brown with a hint of cinnamon.  
“I was a mess even before Jongin met me.”, Sehun mutters and Baekhyun breathes out a laugh. Short, barely there. He doesn’t reach out for Sehun again and it all makes sense.   
So much sense.  
Baekhyun is in love with him.   
Sehun doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been there for Baekhyun, if it’s because he helped him or if it’s because of him. Messed up Sehun, who doesn’t like to touch people, who has a secret ability nobody knows about. Jongin knew and it freaked him out at first.   
Sehun doesn’t want Baekhyun to freak out. He longs for the contact, it bubbles up inside of him- need, the desire to touch, to be closer than just sitting next to each other without a single spot touching. If only Baekhyun could look into his head too.   
“Don’t.”, the brunette says next to him, quietly. His lips are barely moving and his words are almost impossible to heart although it’s perfectly silent around him. “Don’t close off again now, please. Don’t… don’t treat me different now.”  
“I won’t.”, Sehun says and it’s a promise. “There is no reason to.”  
And Sehun gives in to the need. He leans forward slowly, not sure if he is doing the right thing, eyes searching for Baekhyuns and the other man flashes a grin, quick and fleeting and then he meets Sehun halfway, their lips touching ever so softly. Like a dancing butterfly, a snowflake maybe. It melts away like one, the contact between their lips.   
The firework inside Sehuns head is not Baekhyuns alone. It’s more, so much more than that.   
It’s dark blue relief, a silver wish, deep red promises. He tastes wodka on Baekhyuns lips, a hint of beer, the bubble gum he is chewing for hours already. He thinks he can taste cherry jam and lightly buttered toast too.   
“I won’t take his place.”, Baekhyun breathes against his mouth and Sehun feels himself smile. His lips twitch at the corners and he places his palm flat against the side of Baekhyuns face, cradles his chin and jaw and rubs a thumb over the edge of the other mouth. He doesn’t dare to say a single word. 

 

Maybe it’s not fair.  
That Sehun is here, sitting in his living room, trying to sketch Baekhyuns face with a pencil, legs crossed indian style on his couch, laughing- not when he should still mourn for Jongin, should atone for what he did. Baekhyuns knee is touching his when ever he moves to grab another handful of popcorn and Sehun catches glimpses at his thoughts that make his pencil stop on the paper, the lines turning wavy and uneven where he tries to smooth out Baekhyuns eyes.   
Maybe he shouldn’t be happy like this.   
But he can’t help it when Baekhyun leans forward and places a small peck on his cheek and Sehun lets adoration and affection seep into his skin. He sucks it up like a sponge, stores it away for the mornings he still turns around and lays his head on Jongins pillow next to him.  
For when he feels the world crumble around him and he has nothing left but emptiness again. Baekhyun knows he doesn’t like to touch and he accepts it. He doesn’t push.   
It seems to Sehun like Baekhyun is content with just sitting next to him, watching an old movie Sehun likes before they watch one Baekhyun wasn’t able to go see in the cinema.   
They’re watching movies for hours already, have watched movies for the past few days and normally Sehun would get antsy by now. Jongin always held on to him when he wanted to slink away into his study to paint, but Baekhyun just lets him.   
He curls around a pillow when Sehun leaves him, pulls a blanket over himself and waves him off when Sehun opens his mouth to say something although they both know by now, that he won’t say a single word.  
Tonight is different though. Sehun stays next to Baekhyun on the couch, holds his pencil still on the paper and looks at Baekhyuns side profile, studies him and Baekhyun blinks slowly, looks at him out of his peripheral vision. Sehun knows it’s coming and he braces himself for it, for the kiss on his cheek, the emotions and thoughts following it.   
He’s not scared of it, he just isn’t used to it. Not yet, maybe. Or he will never get used to it.   
The kiss never comes. Baekhyun is hovering close, butter popcorn breath fanning across Sehuns face and Sehun finds himself leaning closer, turning his head to the side, closer towards Baekhyun.  
“Can I kiss you…?”  
He doesn’t even answer. He closes the gap between their faces a bit quicker than he thought he would do, pressing their lips together. This one is different. It’s harder than their first, testing almost. Sehun lets his eyes flutter close, swallows down wave after wave of thoughts that don’t belong to him. They come stronger than ever, flame up in his chest, his stomach, make his skin tingle. He wonders for a moment why- why they are so intense this time. It’s because he is feeling the same, he says inside his head, tells himself to let it be.   
To not hold on to something he doesn’t have anymore, doesn’t want anymore.  
Trust, the same promises he tasted on his tongue the first time they kissed. Desire, dripping down his body and pooling hot in his belly. A wave inside of him like someone dropped a stone into a puddle of hot, clear water.   
“Sehun.”, Baekhyun whines against his mouth and curls his fingers into the collar of his shirt, as if to pull him closer, but he doesn’t. So Sehun is the one moving closer this time, pressing forward and connecting their lips again, driven by his own longing, by the need he feels echo out from Baekhyuns skin into his own. Baekhyun lets him, falls backwards onto the couch and his bony knees dig hard into Sehuns stomach, push him away for a second and their mouths disconnect, are ripped apart with the force of the air leaving Sehuns lungs.   
“Sorry.”, Baekhyun giggles and pulls him back down, their mouths slotting together a little bit too wet. Sehun doesn’t mind. He is slowly getting used to this again, to having someone in his arms, inside his head. Baekhyuns thoughts are just as unrestrained as his laughter, loud and swallowing Sehun whole. The storm inside him slowly ebbs away, grows stronger again and Sehun lets himself go, closes his eyes and lets himself drown in Baekhyun.  
Lavender. He smells like lavender and Sehun smiles against his mouth because he was right about the colors all along.   
They stay like this for a while, Baekhyun folding his legs away so Sehun can rest comfortably on top of him, his hands running down the taller mans back and he just holds him like that. It feels like hours, kissing slowly and gently and carefully, still testing the waters with each other.   
Perhaps they really spent hours kissing, because the next time Sehun lifts his head to catch his breath, American Psycho has ended, the credits slowly fading out and Baekhyuns lips are red and swollen and bitten. They’re both breathless, panting for different reasons each.  
Sehuns head is swimming, his thoughts are clogged and he doesn’t know where he starts or ends, which emotions belong to him and which belong to Baekhyun. His fingers are tangled in Baekhyuns hair, knotted into the deep chocolate brown and he takes a moment to admire the contrast, gets lost inside his head until Baekhyun whines silently and bucks up beneath him, arching his back and searches for Sehuns mouth again. And Sehun lets him.  
He’s craving, craving so much and he learns to give in.   
When their lips meet again, something changes between them. Baekhyun accidentally bites down on his bottom lip when Sehun wants to change the angle, the taller mans lip caught between sharp teeth and he lets out what could be as well a moan.   
And Baekhyun threads his fingers into the soft hair in the nape of Sehuns neck, pulls him closer and starts struggling underneath him until he’s able to wrap his legs around the tallers waist and pull him closer, closer, closer. Their crotches bump together, they get caught in an agonizingly slow rub. Sehun pushes his elbow into the couch cushions next to Baekhyuns head, lets his body gyrate against the brunettes underneath him and Baekhyuns breath stutters in his throat. His eyes are feverish and glistening with want when he cups Sehuns face between his hands and makes him look down on him, tongue wetting his bottom lip and Sehun feels hot want curl inside of his guts.   
“Se-hun.”, Baekhyun manages to get out in one breath, broken and small and Sehun quickly covers his mouth with his own again. Corn silk, light gold. Sehun is drowning slowly, brushes his fingers over the side of the other mans face, kisses him deeper. He allows the feelings he sucks out of Baekhyun to dissipate into nothing, concentrates on the feeling of Baekhyuns hands running through his hair, the slow drag of their lips against each other, the taste of popcorn that lingers on his tongue when he kisses Baekhyun with abandon, sucking the air right out of his lung. And Baekhyun starts writhing underneath him, bucks up, whines and demands more without even saying anything, but Sehun can feel it all behind his eyes, pushing him forward, bodies undulating against each others.  
They breathe against each other for moments after they part again, hands searching and locking, fingers intertwined or tangled in their shirts, pushed against burning skin.   
This night is different, Sehun realizes when he pulls Baekhyun into his bedroom, the door swinging shut and then open again behind them while he gives the smallers hand a tug and wraps an arm around him, steadies him while he kisses him again, free hand cupping his face and angling his chin up so their lips can meet.   
Sehun stumbles, lets out a small startled sound when Baekhyun shoves his hands against his chest, makes him fall onto the bed with a huff, only to climb into his lap without missing a beat, all but ripping on Sehuns shirt to get rid of it.  
The weight on his lap grounds him, in a very strange way. He feels anchored to the bed, to reality. A reality where the bed doesn’t smell like sandalwood when he flips them over and presses Baekhyun into the sheets, covering each inch of his neck in tiny butterfly kisses.   
The world shifts around him, like it’s turning on a different axis, lets him forget that the pillow Baekhyuns hair fans out across isn’t supposed to be for anybody but a person who isn’t there anymore and will never come back. His focus is changing to the smell of lavender and lemons, to the soft beat of a heart under his fingers as he drags his lips down over a fluttering pulse, presses his tongue to it, tastes it in his mouth and thinks to himself, that he could do this all night. Map out Baekhyuns chest with loving lips, listens to his faint gasps that echo in the silence of the bedroom and although they are silent, they drown out everything else. It’s been a while since he last did this, spread his fingers wide between ribs and just feeling the rise and fall of somebodys chest.   
Skin on skin they lay there, kissing slowly, breathing each other in, drowning in each other.   
He’s scared by the force of Baekhyuns thoughts, the glimpses he gets, snippets of what is going on in the brunettes head. And he is scared of the pain he knows he will feel moments later, their pants kicked away over the edge of the bed and falling to the floor, one pair of jeans and one pair of soft cotton sweatpants. And again Baekhyun surprises him when the smaller pushes himself up on his elbows, kisses the edge of Sehuns jaw and whispers:   
“Don’t be scared. We don’t have to… “  
Sehun just shakes his head at him, weights the bottle of lube in his hand he still has stored away in his bedside drawer. It’s half empty, strawberry flavored and faintly tinted pink.  
Baekhyun watches him intently, eyes roaming over his face and Sehun looks right back at him, studies his body- how petite he looks under Sehuns own body, how his skin isn’t perfectly white against the sheets but darker by just a bit.   
The silence between them isn’t uncomfortable, but the constant throng of feelings and thoughts is cut and Sehun finds himself reaching out again and placing a hesitating hand on Baekhyuns hip, thumb brushing softly over the protruding bone there.   
He is braced for regret, for hesitation too, but he gets nothing like that. The feeling hits him like a brick instead. Love. Gentle, pulsing love. Oh, how I longed for this moment.   
“Give me that.”, Baekhyun prompts after seconds that trickle by like water and reaches for the lube, fingers brushing against Sehuns palm when he takes the bottle from him and Sehun lets him. He’s pushed back into a sitting position, weight resting on his haunches and then Baekhyun climbs into his lap, wraps an arm around his neck and kisses him, swaying a little as he tries to find his balance on top of him.   
Thoughts flash through his mind like lightning bolts, bright and crisp and Sehun tenses.   
Pain. Discomfort. Jesus, my least favorite part of this all.  
Sehun realizes what he is doing a moment too late, gasping for air when he understands and notices that Baekhyuns other hand is missing on his body, that he has an arm behind himself and spreads his legs a tad wider, the slick sound of his own fingers entering him loud to Sehuns ears. He can only hold on to Baekhyun in this moment, bury his face against the smallers sweaty neck and litter his skin with bites and kisses again to distract him, muttering against his skin. Nonsense, maybe. But he knows that Baekhyun isn’t really listening to him.   
He picks up on bits and pieces of his mind, knows that the sound of Sehuns voice alone is enough to distract him and relax, his body not longer struggling against the intrusion.  
Sehuns mind scrambles for a memory of Jongin, tries to hold on to something he knows, doesn’t want to forget, but he is unable to focus on anything else but Baekhyuns body, the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart against Sehuns chest.   
He brushes his palm over the small of Baekhyuns back, lets his other hand travel down over Baekhyuns arm, follows the curve of it over his elbow and to his wrist, dares to press his own fingers against Baekhyuns knuckles and feel the constant push and pull of the digits inside the brunettes body.  
He’s in awe, stuck with his mouth opened slightly, watching Baekhyun prepare himself above him, head tossed back and eyes closed tightly, fingernails leaving red marks in their wake where they scratch over his neck and the round of his shoulder.  
Sehun hisses but stays still, tries to focus on Baekhyuns face, take in the blush spreading over his cheeks, his neck, the upper parts of his chest. He’s sure that Baekhyun would just fall backwards if not for Sehuns hand on his lower back and he feels his muscles quiver with the exertion of holding the smaller man upright against himself, kissing a path over his throat, over his clavicles. He feels each spark of pain pulse through Baekhyuns body, up his own spine, over his arms and he breathes slowly, breathes through it together with Baekhyun, rocks the smaller back against his own hand when he presses his fingers in deep, Sehuns own applying pressure over his knuckles.   
Baekhyun moans, low and throaty and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.   
There is something missing inside his head, but he can’t place his finger on what it is.   
He gets distracted for a moment, struggles to not lose his grip on reality and Baekhyun mewls atop him. Sehuns fingers are pressing down too hard on his hand, his wrist is turned in the most uncomfortable way the taller can imagine and he quickly lets go, but Baekhyun whispers around a whine: “No, no, don’t let go, please. Please.”   
And Sehun dares to slowly pull Baekhyun hand away from his entrance, kisses his shoulder and sinks his teeth into the skin there when he slowly pushes in three of his own fingers.   
Baekhyun stutters something into his ear, holds on to Sehun so tight, he thinks his ribs would break any moment, but he keeps pushing, deeper deeper, until his knuckles brush against Baekhyuns skin and the brunette starts working his hips back- tiny little rolls of his hips, moving into the penetration and away from it at the same time.   
He’s already quite loose, body not working against Sehuns fingers to push them out and he presses them in deep, as deep as he can go without hurting Baekhyun too much and crooks them gently, spreading them apart and pulling them out slowly, listening to Baekhyuns gasping word, to his stuttering pants. There are small beads of sweat running down his spine, cold and hot at the same time and Baekhyun draws his face nearer, cups his cheeks and pressed their lips together while he lets his weight drop against Sehuns fingers inside of him. He is making those little mewling sounds again and Sehun notices that every thought of pain is gone from the others mind. There is nothing but burning pleasure left in what Sehuns ability sucks out of him and so he slips his fingers out of Baekhyuns body and angles his body forward, their lips still connected in a gentle kiss. It’s almost obscene how they can kiss each other so lovingly, so tenderly with what they’re doing right now, Baekhyuns legs thrown over Sehuns hips, held by the dips his waist makes towards his lower body.   
They fit like a puzzle piece, Sehun thinks just as Baekhyun reaches between their bodies and grips Sehuns arousal with sticky fingers, squeezing and smearing another dollop of lube over his flesh, making him groan and shudder into their kiss, his hips jerking forward and he has to catch himself. Baekhyun is amused, the emotion pulsing through Sehuns body and making him smile ever so slightly.   
A puzzle, one bigger part and one smaller. Their fingers lace together on their own, perfectly slipping into place between each other and their mouths are pressed together over and over again, open and wet and messy. Sehun hates the mess, but he doesn’t care right now.   
He is too focused on how Baekhyun feels both inside his head and around him when he slowly pushes in. He keeps himself still inside his mind, holds his breath and licks into Baekhyun mouth, takes every little noise the smaller makes and pushes it into the drawer he has written Baekhyuns name on, bright golden silk and old lace white.   
Their bodies come together with a sticky sound, excess lube pushed out around the edges of Sehuns member now fitted into Baekhyuns entrance, the muscle straining and fluttering around him and Sehun cards his fingers through the smallers hair and softly tugs his head back to press his lips against his rapidly beating pulse.   
He doesn’t even realize that he isn’t thinking about Jongin at all, that his entire world is done turning on its axis. His focus has moved, completely. Sehun only hears the sound of Baekhyuns quiet moans, of his breaking voice that sighs out his name. They’re not loud, not wild. They marvel in each others presence, come undone in each others presence- unraveled and put back together as they take in each others wounds and accept them.   
It’s spiraling down and up again, hips meeting in urgent rolls, rhythm hard but not fast and Baekhyun gets pushed up on the bed with each snap of Sehuns body against his, but the hands in his hair and on his hip hold him still and he closes his eyes, lets his mouth fall open soft and kittenish and Sehun peppers kisses to the corners of his lips.   
Sehun always laughed at people who said that while having sex you don’t know where one person starts and the other ends, that you become one. With Jongin it was close to this.   
Sehun was content with him, gave himself up for Jongin.   
But with Baekhyun… with Baekhyun he feels whole and blown into pieces all at once. He loses track of time, of sounds because there is silence inside his mind. There is only one set of thoughts, so strong they seem to burst out of him. His own- Baekhyuns.   
They are feeling the exact same thing and it catches Sehun off guard, makes his hips stutter and he hides his face against Baekhyuns chest, closes his eyes and makes a sound that could be a sob or a moan. He doesn’t know.   
And Baekhyun holds him through it, makes him look up and kisses him again. All soft and tender and wonderful and far from perfect. But it’s enough for him. More than enough.  
Sehun comes with a choked off sound, fingers gripping bruises into Baekhyuns hips when he hears the others voice whisper inside his head: “I love you.”  
He leans back, brings his hands down between their bodies and curls his fingers around Baekhyuns that are stroking himself, grips harder, fits himself into the gaps and pushes his hips forward at the same time, twisting their joined hands upwards and Baekhyun cries out without really making a sound and Sehun feels wetness seep into the spaces between their fingers. He smiles at Baekhyuns barely-there grimace and Baekhyun laughs up at him, the back of his hand slowly brushing over Sehuns cheek and he leans into it, craves the love he feels echo all around in his chest, his stomach, his heart.   
“You’re happiness too.”, Baekhyun whispers and Sehun curls himself tighter around the small body by his side, wraps him up inside his arms and doesn’t answer. 

 

It’s a Saturday evening, rainy and cold and gray and Sehun has to hurry down the street into the doorway of their apartment complex, collar flipped up around his neck, but there is water dripping from the tips of his blond hair into his shirt and he feels it sticking to his back in wet patches. He’s shivering, rubs his hands against each other while he hops up the stairs, the bag with oranges he got from the corner store swinging against his elbow with each step he takes. Sehn is all but jumping up the stairs, two at a time and he manages to get the key into the lock without dropping it even once- and normally he drops his key at least three times when he’s slightly tipsy and out of breath.   
“I’m home!”, he declares loudly, voice booming through the silence of the apartment while he kicks his shoes off. They land on top of each other and drip rainwater onto the floor, but Sehun doesn’t care. He’s unwrapping the scarf from around his neck, folds the cashmere between his fingers and walks through the short hallway into their living room, already talking even though he hasn’t gotten an answer just yet.   
“I got you some oranges! Doctor said vitamins are good for your muscles. Did you call the-”  
He stops dead in his tracks, the plastic bag slipping from his fingers and the oranges thud to the floor and roll away.   
“Oh, hey.”, Jongin whispers faintly, voice feebly and breathy, smiling up at him from where he sits on the couch with his blanket wrapped around himself. White sheets against tan skin that shouldn’t be white too. He has his hands resting against his knees, palms turned up and Sehun spots the small strip of pictures they took at the mall together grasped between the fingers of his right hand. Jongins fingers aren’t shaking.   
They should be because they always do and Sehun swallows around the lump in his throat slowly. There is a hand gripping his heart and he tries to breathe, but he can’t. He can’t, because there are little pill boxes strewn all over the coffee table in front of his boyfriend and- they are all empty.   
“I thought you would be out for a little longer.”, Jongin smiles and cocks his head to the side, but it tips too far and he groans, lets his head fall back against the couch eventually.   
“You…”, Sehun starts, still standing between the oranges, clenching his fists by his side. For once he doesn’t want to touch his lover, although normally the first thing he would do after coming home would be cradling Jongin in his arms and kiss him, take a little bit of the others pain and make it his own. Jongin moves, clutches the picture strip a bit tighter and stretches his other hand out, offers a hand to Sehun and Sehun doesn’t take it.   
Jongin doesn’t drop his arm though. He just holds it out, silently begging Sehun over, his eyes desperate even though they are clouded already.   
“You promised you wouldn’t.”, Sehun gets out through his clogged throat and makes a step forward to take Jongins hand in his. He gets nothing. There is nothing inside Jongins head and Sehun thinks that it’s because of the pills he swallowed, that they are numbing him like they always do, but he doesn’t even get the tiniest thought.   
Just emotions and they are so raw that he has to breathe hard through his nose.   
Regret. Guit. Love.   
“I had to.”, Jongin whispers, still smiling and there are tears starting to stream down his face. “I had to, Sehunnie. I don’t want-” He breaks off, can’t speak any more and Sehun slides down into the couch next to him, folds his legs underneath himself and pulls Jongin into his arms, presses his face into the older boys soft hair, smelling like sandal wood and it’s still a bit wet from his shower.   
“Let me call an ambulance, Jongin.”, Sehun mutters and Jongin shakes his head. There is anger seeping into the connection between them and Sehun chokes out a sob.   
“No.”, Jongin answers him, stronger than before and wraps his arms around him, curls his fingers into Sehuns coat and holds him still. “No, Sehunnie, I don’t want… I can’t go on like this. Please, let me go.”  
“I can’t.”, Sehun says, desperately so, struggles against Jongins hold that is growing weaker and weaker with each passing moment. “I can’t let you go, Jongin. I won’t let you-”  
“I’m dying anyways.”, Jongin mutters and Sehun freezes. He goes lax in his boyfriends hold, allows the tears that are burning in his eyes to flow down his face. “You won’t save me, no matter what… I will die. And nothing will change that and I can’t watch you die with me, Hun. I can’t watch you sit next to me and die each day a little bit more. I don’t want to end up rendered moveless and in pain all the time. I don’t want to become someone else because my brain is messed up and I don’t want you to see me like this. Not ever! Just let me go! Please, please, please, Hun. I can’t go on. I’m not strong enough.”  
And Sehun stays silent, tilts his head back and swallows several times, combs his fingers through Jongins dark hair. He wants to move, really. He wants to drag Jongin into the bathroom, wants to make him throw up, wants to call an ambulance and save him - again.  
But he can’t. He is frozen in place, strapped down to the couch and Jongins arms by the sorrow and pain and desperation he feels radiating off Jongin and the emotions fog up his brain and he can’t even speak. He can do nothing.   
“I thought you would be out a little longer.”, Jongin sobs against his chest and Sehun tightens his arms around him, presses kisses to the top of his slightly damp hair and Jongin coughs, wets Sehuns coat with his tears but Sehun doesn’t care.   
“Don’t make me do this.”, Sehun rasps out and Jongin shakes his head again. “I can’t- why… why Jongin... ? I love you. You can’t leave me just yet.”  
“I know.”, Jongin replies slowly. “I know you love me and I love you too and that’s why I have to do this. I have to let you go and let you live.”  
Sehun knows he has lost. He has lost this battle against this disease from the very beginning. He lost the first time when Jongin cried into his shoulder after getting his diagnosis, after he told him that everything will be alright and that they are going to be fine. He lost when Jongin started changing- slowly, but still noticeable.  
And he knows that he can’t fight this anymore because it’s been a long time coming. Jongin’s been talking about this for so long already and even though he promised not to do this, here they are now, crying and Sehun holds him and feels the pain slowly slip away.   
He savors the last emotions on his tongue, wraps them up and stores them away so he can always remember what Jongin felt like in his head, presses their lips together and leans back in the couch when Jongin starts to slowly relax in his hold.   
He takes those last moments they have, paints them inside his head, engraves them into his memory forever so he would never forget- the feeling of Jongin in his arms, the taste of his lips and the smell of his hair.   
In movies people always die with one last, stuttering breath, a gasp, the beginning of a name on the tip of their tongues. In reality, it’s nothing like that. Sehun doesn’t notice for a long time, is too caught up in his own thoughts, the rapid beating of his heart. He doesn’t want to let go and he feels Jongin slipping deeper and deeper into his embrace and he lets him, leans his cheek against his head and listens to him breathing.   
Jongin sighs, the pain fades away completely and for a long time Sehun can only feel love, sprinkled with regret and then nothing but gratefulness. Those things linger for a long time, minutes even and then he notices that Jongins hands have slipped from his coat and are now laying on the cushions on each side of Sehuns ribs, relaxed and open, palms facing up.  
He still doesn’t let go.   
The first person he calls is Chanyeol and not the ambulance. And when his taller friend enters the apartment and crouches down next to the couch, Sehun doesn’t tell him that he let Jongin die, that he didn’t do anything- he doesn’t have to. Chanyeol doesn’t ask any questions. He just takes Jongin from Sehuns arms and lets Sehun make a run for it to the bathroom, making the phone calls because Sehun can’t. 

 

He wakes up with a thundering heart.   
The sheets are suffocating him, the thoughts pressing into his skin followed by a flood of emotions are too much to take and Sehun rolls himself to the left, away from Baekhyun who is snuggled into his side and nearly falls to the floor. He’s panting, his skin feels sticky and too tight and his head is swimming, his thoughts racing. He lays there for a few seconds on his back, breathing through his nose, pressing a palm flat to his forehead and tries to calm himself down, but he’s failing. The pillow doesn’t smell like sandalwood anymore, the window above his head reflects the soft glow of Baekhyuns naked shoulder and Sehun curses under his breath while he sits up and runs a hand through his hair while he swings his legs over the edge and gets up slowly.   
Baekhyun is still sleeping peacefully behind him, muttering softly in his sleep and Sehun catches himself just before he is reaching out to touch his silky hair. He looks so young like this, mouth open just a little, his face completely relaxed. Beautiful, Sehun thinks and then rips himself away from the sight and digs around the pile of clothes by his bedside for a pair of sweatpants. Baekhyun doesn’t move even when Sehun opens the squeaking bedroom door, doesn’t even stir in the sheets when Sehun leaves him alone.  
Guilt.   
It’s slamming into him like a brick, bright red and dripping black and Sehun finds himself sitting on his stool in his study, clutching a cup of coffee between his fingers. He is staring at the picture he started painting for Jongin all those months ago, the spray paint dry and cracking along the edges where he applied too much on the canvas. It’s been dripping to the floor from the lower parts of the canvas fame, forming dark stains on old newspaper sheets Sehun has spread out on the entire floor of his study.   
He isn’t lost inside his head this time. He just sits there, staring at a painting and thinks.  
Maybe it’s been a long time since Sehun last spent so much time thinking about something, but it’s hard not to right now. It’s hard because he feels like he is drowning in guilt.  
He is guilty of slowly forgetting why he should always mourn Jongins death, why it’s his fault, why he shouldn’t be happy anymore. He is guilty of letting go of the person he said he loves, will always love. He is guilty of forgetting his forever.  
And so he sits there, stares at the picture and lets his heart ache, downs himself in his pain, pulls it up from the depths of his soul and pushes it to the forefront of his mind.   
He needs this pain to remind himself that the world is full of sorrow. Sehun grew up with this sorrow- his own, the hurt of other people. And Baekhyun is a broken soul himself.   
He doesn’t need more weight to pull him down into an abyss that Sehun creates all by himself. He knows he can’t fix anybody and he isn’t someone to be fixed.   
He made a mistake.   
Last night might have been a mistake, but he just… can’t regret it.  
He only regrets letting someone fall in love with him when he’s not ready to love ever again in his live. Love means getting hurt. It means trusting someone, depending on someone and Sehun can’t do that. He never did and never will and he’s just-  
“Sehun?”  
He flinches, nearly drops the cup and turns his head to look at Baekhyun who is standing in the doorway, one hand on the door handle and the other clasping the hem of his shirt.   
He’s wearing only his boxer shorts, fabric bunches up on his thighs and Sehun feels his throat go dry for various reasons. He tries to think about Jongin, tries to push away the desire to touch Baekhyun again, to pull him into his arms and kiss him to just feel and share what is going on in the others head. But he can’t.   
He’s frozen on his stool, naked feet propped up on the metal bar underneath him and the coffee in his cup is cold. Baekhyun blinks a couple of times, his eyes flicker over the paintings lining the walls and then he meets Sehuns gaze again.   
“You were gone… when I woke up.”, Baekhyun mutters and god, he sounds so broken, so small and unsure and Sehun realizes that people tend to sound like that around him.  
He’s not a stable thing for anyone.   
“Sorry.”, he whispers and turns his head back towards the painting, tries to ignore the lump in his throat while Baekhyun slowly walks over and comes to a halt next to him.  
“Did something happen?”, he asks gently and Sehun shakes his head, looks down into his coffee cup and then heaves a sigh. “I shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t have slept with each other last night, Baekhyun. I-”  
“If you’re going to tell me this is about Jongin-”, Baekhyun cuts him off and Sehun interrupts him: “Yes, this is about Jongin. It will always be about Jongin.”  
Baekhyun is silent next to him, but Sehun hears his breath hitching in his throat and he suddenly feels like crying. He is being stupid, he is being unfair and he is hurting Baekhyun only to hurt himself and he knows it and still he can’t change it.   
The cup slowly slips from his fingers and crashes to the floor, cold coffee seeping into old newspaper sheets and between Baekhyuns toes and Sehun buries his face in his hands, chokes around a sob and feels so lost like never before.  
He doesn’t understand how Baekhyun managed to slip between the cracks in his walls, how he managed to wedge himself into Sehuns broken soul and slowly replace his sadness with something much more gentle and light.   
The smell of lavender envelopes him, a pair of arms wraps itself around his shoulders, around his torso and a warm hand presses against the back of his head.   
His hands are pressed hard against his face and Baekhyuns chest and he feels hot tears spill from his eyes and onto his palms and he barely manages to get them out from between their bodies, arms wrapping around Baekhyuns slender form and before he knows it he is crying against Baekhyuns stomach, sobbing and coughing and Baekhyun combs his fingers through his hair, making soothing sounds in the back of his throat.   
“It’s okay, you know?”, Baekhyun breathes out and Sehun shakes his head. “No. It’s not.”  
“Yes, it is!”, Baekhyun insists and slowly lets go of him to straighten him and look into his eyes with a stern expression on his face. “It’s okay to cry, Sehun. It’s okay to be hurt. I understand.”  
“You don’t.”, Sehun whispers and cups his face between both his hands, leans down to press their foreheads together, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. They stay like this for a few moments, silent and still and Sehun feels his heart slowing, his breathing evening out. Baekhyun isn’t hurt. Sehun can’t feel even the slightest hint of sadness in the other boy, only love and understanding and his thoughts are so silent that he almost doesn’t catch them. A wet sob leaves him and he swallows, lifts his hands and threads his fingers into Baekhyuns hair to pull him in for a kiss.  
“Please leave me.”, he mutters against the others mouth after they break apart again, his voice rough. “I don’t want to pull you down with me.”  
“Is this what Jongin said?”, Baekhyun smiles at him and presses their lips together again.   
Sehun keeps silent, eyes darting back and forth between Baekhyuns own and he feels his heart stutter, stop for maybe a second or two. Chocolate and cinnamon. Coffee brown and gentle sandalwood. “You know I’m not Jongin. No one will ever be like Jongin and I won’t try and replace him. I know I couldn’t even if I tried. But don’t you think that giving up your entire life is not what Jongin would have wanted for you?”  
Truth is, Sehun knows exactly what Jongin wanted. He wanted to marry- and if he had to drag Sehun to the States or some other place where it is allowed to marry- he wanted to adopt, he wanted two dogs and a house with a white fence and a front porch. He wanted to travel around the world. All of those things are lost and forgotten now.   
And while Sehun looks up at Baekhyun through his teary eyes, vision blurry around the edges, he thinks that he doesn’t even know what he wants. He never took even the tiniest moment to stop and think what he dreams of.   
“You should start to live, Sehun.”, Baekhyun mutters against his mouth and drags him into another kiss, lips overlapping and tongues touching tentatively. Baekhyun helps him slip off the stool, guides him out of the study and back into the bedroom and Sehun lets him.  
Because each kiss tastes a little bit like goodbye.   
He doesn’t need to hear Baekhyuns thoughts to know that. And when he braces himself on each of his elbows on either side of Baekhyuns head, looks down into his lust-clouded eyes and tries to engrave the picture of the smallers flushed cheeks and bitten lips into his mind, he whispers:   
“I love you too.”  
When Baekhyun meets his eyes, Sehun sees nothing but understanding in them. And again he doesn’t need to hear the others thoughts to know what is going on. Baekhyun knows.

Baekhyun is light, Sehun decides while he sits by his window and lets a bush wander down over a based canvas, leaving bright yellow and deep brown in his wake.  
He is light that falls through a set of branches onto a patch of grass, onto a clearing in the woods. Sehun can accept that Baekhyun means happiness to him and that most of the days he doesn’t see the small brunette, he doesn’t feel anything at all.  
Most of the time, the world still consists of only colors and sounds. And sometimes he feels empty. Sehun won’t say he is healing, because as long as he is here, there will be no healing for him. There are wounds he is tearing open each day while rolling onto his side and pressing his face into Jongins pillow.   
The whole place is like a knife digging deeper and deeper into his skin and he can’t help but to feel guilty every time he kisses Baekhyun on the couch and downs himself in the others emotions to forget that he kisses someone in the exact same spot he let Jongin die.   
Sometimes he thinks that he will never stop feeling guilty. It will always be something that will haunt him, just like Baekhyun is haunted by the ghost of his past too.  
He holds him through the nights when his lover has nightmares, kisses the top of his head and whispers into his ear until Baekhyun manages to fall asleep again and he is thankful for each moment they get to spend like this. Because sooner or later everything will be over.  
Sehun isn’t healing here, he knows it.  
It’s not Baekhyun, it’s this place. His memories are haunting him and he doesn’t know why.   
He tries to let go, he really does. But letting go is hard when he’s surrounded by memories the moment he steps into his home.   
But Baekhyun is light, he is happiness, steady.   
Sehun doesn’t know how he deserves someone like Baekhyun, who sends him endless text messages even though Sehun rarely answers them although he reads them all and smiles when he gets a selca of Baekhyun and Chanyeol who made a mess in the store between the shelves. He treasures the moments he gets with Baekhyun alone, fills a drawer inside his head with precious things.   
Baekhyuns laugh, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his nose scrunches up.   
The way Baekhyun fits against his side in a booth while the others are loud and wild around them and they just sit next to each other, whisper nothings into each others ears.   
He treasures those moments over anything and he knows he is slowly but steadily scarring over. Wounds heal, but scars remain and those scars won’t vanish with time as long as Sehun stays here.   
But Baekhyun has a home now, he has friends here now.   
Baekhyun belongs.   
And Sehun is lost somewhere between the then and now and he can’t get out of this.   
He thinks that Baekhyun knows. He catches glimpses of fear when he holds the smalle in his arms at night, catches shards of thoughts that Baekhyun doesn’t dare to think and he treasures those too. He knows that he belongs here too. He belongs with Baekhyun.  
Nothing will ever be the way it was with Jongin though- and that’s a good thing.   
In this world there are never two things happening the same way. Sehun accepts that, wraps it up in the love he feels when Baekhyun kisses his cheek while passing him in the store, carrying a cardboard box way too big in his arms and stores it away in his mental drawer too. He slowly learns what it means to be content again, what it means to accept the fact that he can’t change the world and the people around him, only himself.   
He learns all those things from Baekhyun- wonderful, bright Baekhyun who has every reason to hate life and be sad but he isn’t. He loves life it seems. He laughs loudly, says the rudest things, makes the cheesiest comments and makes Chanyeol fake-vomit into his pitcher of beer. Baekhyun is loved here, Sehun thinks while observing the others play a game of pool, sitting in their booth with a bottle of beer and the weight of the small envelope in his pocket seems like it’s dragging him down.   
Baekhyun shouts in victory by the pool table and fist-bumps Jongdae while Chanyeol groans and kicks the floor and Sehun laughs into his bottle, rolls up the sleeve of his shirt a little bit more when it slips down over his wrist. He is thankful, he realizes.   
Thankful for the February cold and the things Jongin taught him. Without them, he would have never met Baekhyun. He would have walked past him just like all the others and he would have died inside his shell of emptiness and memories sooner or later.   
He sits there in their favorite bar and revels in the memories and moments he had in here with his favorite people in the world. He smiles, watches Baekhyun dance around the pool table and avoid Chanyeols fist that aims for his upper arm, flipping him the bird afterwards and Sehun knows they will be alright. They will always be alright.   
He sits there and waits, empties his beer bottle and sets it down, pushes it across the table and slowly pulls the envelope from his pocket. He unfolds it on the table, smoothes out the crinkles and sets the tiny black velvet box down on top of it gently.   
When he walks out of the bar with his hands in his pockets, he bumps into someones shoulder, sucks in a breath and swallows down the emotions he gets from the brief contact.  
But he doesn’t let them control him anymore. And Sehun is thankful.

Dear Baekhyun

I was never a person to say goodbye like other people do. I am bad with words and probably bad with emotions too. I don’t want to say goodbye to you, but maybe I have to.   
You belong here and I don’t. I have thought about this for a long time now and there isn’t much I can say. I won’t apologize.   
I won’t apologize for falling in love with you. Probably harder than I ever have.   
I won’t apologize for being happy with you and trying to make you happy too. I can’t feel sorry for those things. But I am sorry for leaving you like this. You made me see that there is more to this life than I know and I think I have to find those things I want before I will be able to make you as happy as you deserve to be. I won’t ask you to wait for me because that would be selfish. I can’t ask you to wait for me, Baekhyun. I just can’t even though I want to.   
All I will do is leave and hope that you love me as much as I love you. And I hope you can understand that I need to heal before I can be a man you deserve. A man who deserves to love you. You are the most amazing person I have ever met in my entire life. You are strong, talented and wonderful and you should never forget that.   
Even if you fall in love with someone else while I’m gone, I promise to always love you and always be there for you. The world is yours, Baekhyun. Because you deserve it.   
And I hope that one day when return I can say that I deserve it too.  
I won’t ask you to wait for me. But you have my heart and I hope you know it. 

Forever in love with you  
Sehun  
Epilog

 

“Baek, can you get me the list with the new orders, please?”, Chanyeol asks from behind the counter, crouched down over a couple of boxes he packs for the delivery boy, who is waiting by the backdoor with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. Baekhyun eyes the boy for a couple of moments, rolls his eyes and snatches the stack of papers from the cramped desk in the back room, dropping it into Chanyeols waiting hand.   
“You know.”, Chanyeol says conversationally and leans back on his haunches while he sorts through the papers and pushes them into the boxes one by one before he closes them.   
“It’s been almost one year.”   
“So?”, Baekhyun retorts while lifting up one of the boxes. The boy is already holding out his hands to him and Baekhyun pushes the box into his arms before he turns back to Chanyeol and cocks his head to the side, waiting.   
“I’m just-”  
“Don’t even start this again, Park.”, Baekhyun hisses and rakes a hand through his newly dyed blond hair. “You know I said I will wait for him.”  
“It’s been a year!”, Chanyeol insists and carries the rest of the boxes to the backdoor.  
“Let me tell you, Baek, he is back and he just doesn’t want us anymore.”  
“You mean me.”, Baekhyun clarifies and the delivery boy makes a run for it. The back door swings shut with a bang and they are left in the tiny room together, Baekhyun glaring up at Chanyeol who is rubbing his neck in embarrassment.   
“Yeah, well…”, the taller says slowly and Baekhyun flips him off before he pushes back into the store. He would be lying if he says he doesn’t think that too- sometimes.   
Then he looks down on his hand, at the tiny silver star on his finger and remembers the beer-stained letter Sehun left behind for him that night he left.   
It still stings and he still cries because of it sometimes, but he isn’t angry. He knows that Sehun had a reason to leave and if it means that he will come back and be Baekhyuns and Baekhyuns alone, then he can take this. It’s silly, honestly. He is being naive again, but he doesn’t care because he can say that he trusts Sehun. He trusts him enough to believe that there was a reason, that there was a purpose behind this all.   
And Baekhyun loves him- that should be reason enough to wait for him and not be angry.   
Being apart only makes love grow stronger, they say. Baekhyun really believes in that.   
Because each day that he wakes up without Sehun by his side, can’t tell him good morning because he has a different phone number now and Baekhyun still has no idea where he is, he thinks that he misses him enough to die. Sehun is his own personal heartache.   
The apartment is empty, the gallery has no idea where Sehun went and it’s almost as if he never existed in the first place. And when Baekhyun thinks he might break over this, he looks down at the tiny star on his finger and takes a breath.   
Sehun didn’t leave him behind.   
He left because he needs to heal and Baekhyun tries to understand. He tries to be strong and be as bright and happy as Sehun remembers him for when he returns.   
And he hopes that Sehuns heart aches too, where ever he is.   
Life isn’t empty without Sehun, Baekhyun would never dare to say something like this.   
He has friends who care for him, who he cares for. He loves them all dearly and he knows they are only worried about him because he is on his own since he moved out of Chanyeols apartment and got his own tiny two-room-closet. They are worried about him because most of them know about his past now and they are scared he will hurt himself again.  
He did. A couple of times after Sehun left because he thought that it was his fault. That Sehun doesn’t love him enough to be with him even though he repeated that he loves Baekhyun in his letter over and over again. It’s still hard to believe sometimes and Baekhyun struggles to hold on to his trust from time to time. It’s hard when his birthday comes and goes and Sehun doesn’t wish him happy birthday. It’s hard when Christmas comes and goes and Sehun isn’t there although Baekhyun bought a present for him.   
And it’s hard when February comes again, Valentines Day passes and Baekhyun finds himself standing at the same corner Sehun found him, begging for money.   
It’s even harder when he gets a letter that his mother committed suicide and he has to attend the funeral- all on his own because he has no hand to hold while he struggles to cry.   
He does cry at his mothers funeral because Sehun isn’t there to hold him and let him forget what the woman who gave birth to him put him through. Sometimes it’s hard.   
And Chanyeol doesn’t make it better.   
But Baekhyun still holds on to the love he feels when he thinks about Sehun, when he sorts Sehuns favorite brand of brushes into the shelf, or when he packs a box of deliveries for someone else that could as well be Sehun. He imagines, from time to time, what it would be like to deliver an order to someones house, only to have Sehun open the door to him.  
Or what it would be like to run into a couple in the mall, only to realize that it’s Sehun who returned and found someone else to love. What it would be like if Chanyeol is right and Sehun really doesn’t want him anymore.   
He didn’t ask Baekhyun to wait for him and still he does because he has faith and he would always wait for him even if he didn’t ask. The ring Baekhyun wears on his ring finger is promise enough. Question enough. Sehun never asked and perhaps it’s pretty stupid to even think about it as an engagement ring when they’ve been together for not even a year.   
And still.  
Baekhyun holds on and prays and he would always hold on. For Sehun.  
Because Sehun was brave enough to let Baekhyun in, because Sehun was kind enough to hold out a hand to him when no one else did. Sehun brought him to life. Maybe it’s the other way around though. Maybe Baekhyun was the reason Sehun didn’t give up and he is sure that wherever Sehun is right now, he is thinking about him too.   
“Hey.”, Chanyeol says quietly behind him and Baekhyun nearly drops the set of spray cans he tries to unbox, turning his head so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. Chanyeol is standing awkwardly behind him, holding a flyer between his big hands and his ears are a little red.   
“I’m sorry for what I said.”, the taller confesses and slowly holds out the flyer to him. “But I had a reason why I said it, Baek. I think you should go on that date with Kyungsoo, you know?”  
And Baekhyun slowly reaches out for the pamphlet, takes it from between Chanyeols fingers and unfolds it, takes a small breath when he reads the bottom lines.   
“I’m sorry, you know? Really sorry.”, Chanyeol whispers and turns on his heel to flee behind the counter again and tend to the lonely customer waiting there. He flees because he knows what is coming now will be ugly. Baekhyun can feel it burning behind his eyelids. The hurt.   
He should have seen it coming, maybe.   
One of the galleries in town has an exhibition they planned for ages now, he knows about that. He knows about that because some of their regulars tell him about it when they are buying their supplies. New artists, upcoming, trendy artists.   
He doesn’t have to read the entire pamphlet. His eyes find the names on the bottom line, seem to find one standing out between all the others like it’s on fire. Oh Sehun.  
Baekhyun swallows around the pain and lets the tears fall. 

 

The letter is burning into a smoldering pile of blackened pieces in the metal ashtray between them on the table and Baekhyun watches the edges gleam red and orange. The ring on his finger feels like it’s burning too. But he can’t take it off. He just can’t because it would mean he is losing Sehun once and for all. It’s like the ring is stuck on his ring finger, like it has cut into his flesh and refuses to leave.   
“He’s an asshole.”, Jongdae declares on the other side of the table and takes another shot of soju, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows. “I mean, come on! He could have-”  
“Jongdae, shut up!”, Minseok hisses and boxes Jongdaes shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “You’re not helping!”  
No, Jongdae certainly isn’t helping. He only makes it worse, but Baekhyun is thankful that at least one of them manages to talk shit about Sehun right now. Because his throat is blocked and he can’t even drink properly. He doesn’t feel like drinking his sorrows away.   
“I swear I’m gonna punch his pretty face when I see him.”, Jongdae grumbles and earns another hit from Minseok that has him wincing even harder. The spot is going to bruise over in the morning, Baekhyun knows that much. But Jongdae just keeps talking.  
“Come on, Minseok, that’s a dick move! He made Baekhyun wait for an entire year and doesn’t even have the balls to come by and say hello and we’re his friends!”  
He didn’t make me wait, Baekhyun wants to say, but the words just won’t leave his mouth. He sits there, stares at his fingers and the burning letter and tries not to cry again.   
Knowing Sehun is back and simply doesn’t want Baekhyun anymore sucks a thousand times more than not knowing where Sehun is. It’s like someone is stabbing him with a kitchen knife, turning the knife inside his flesh over and over again.   
He listens to Minseok and Jongdae bicker on the other side of the table for a couple of minutes, swallows down his tears and then stands up, chair grating over the kitchen floor.  
“I’m gonna take a walk.”, he whispers and Jongdae opens his mouth to say something, but Minseok beats him to it. “Baekhyun-”  
“Don’t.”, Baekhyun interrupts him and lifts his hand. “I just need to be alone for a bit, okay?”  
They’re not used to him being quiet and it shows on their faces that they are worried about him and for a second Baekhyun thinks that this is what Sehun must have felt like back then when Jongin died. He hates the constant glances, how careful people are around him.   
The apartment door swings shut behind him, drowns out the sound of Minseok telling Jongdae how much of an idiot he is and Baekhyun is left alone with his thoughts.   
But there is nothing inside his head, not a single thought left. No emotions inside of him.  
He feels broken, like all this time waiting for Sehun to return broke him in the end, no matter how hard he was fighting against it.   
He tries to be angry, really. He is trying to be angry at Sehun, turn this love into hate.   
And he can’t. All he feels is love and longing and he just wants to know why.   
He is naive. Honestly and utterly naive. To think that Sehun would return to him and love him as much as he did when he left. Maybe Chanyeol was right all along.   
Maybe Baekhyun is not good enough to replace Jongin and Sehun will always just love Jongin. It doesn’t matter if Jongin is dead or not. Sehun never had the chance to close this chapter of his life after all. That’s what they said when he left in the first place.   
Baekhyun doesn’t think so, he can’t.   
The spot he first met Sehun is empty, deserted so and the night is cold, the wind biting into Baekhyuns cheeks and he remembers what it felt like to be on his own, without anybody to love and without love at all. Maybe this life was easier. Maybe it was easier to not know what true happiness feels like. He waits for the anger. But it doesn’t come.   
He feels a bit like a character in those cheesy movies he likes to watch with Jongdae sometimes. The main characters fall in love, get torn apart by fate again and then find each other under the most ridiculous circumstances ever. But this is reality and Baekhyun is not the main character in a movie. He shouldn’t stand in front of the galley with his hands in his pockets, shivering and close to tears when he reads Sehuns name on the poster on the door. He shouldn’t be here and yet he is.   
He doesn’t even stand out between the people swarming the gallery, talking and laughing and drinking champagne out of crystal glasses. No, Baekhyun thinks to himself while he passes the crowds in front of the pictures, he is just another faceless hipster kid here.  
Just face in the crowd like he was when Sehun saw him.   
“Oh my.”, someone suddenly says next to him when he stops in front of an abstract painting of a bowl of fruits and he winces, glances to the side to face a young man who seems to be his age, wearing suit and tie. Baekhyun swallows, waits for it to happen. They’ll kick him out like they did in some of the supermarkets back when he was living on the streets. He doesn’t belong here and what is the point of being here but to hurt himself even more?  
The golden name tag on the mans chest reads Yixing in gentle cursive letters and Baekhyuns eyes flicker down to it several times while he bites his tongue hard enough to taste copper in his mouth.  
“Yes?”, he gets out after a few seconds of silence between them and Yixing smiles at him, eyes turning into crescent moons.   
“It’s really you, isn’t it?”, he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question at all.   
“Excuse me?”, Baekhyun coaks and Yixing laughs, bright and sounding like a bell.   
“The boy in the picture.”, Yixing says and Baekhyun blinks. When he doesn’t react to the statement, Yixing clears his throat a little bit awkwardly and cocks his head to the side, motioning behind himself with one of his hands.   
“The boy in Oh-nims painting.”, he clarifies and Baekhyun feels his throat work around words that just won’t leave him. He blinks again and Yixing takes him by the hand to guide him through the crowd, chattering away happily.   
“He said you might stop by, you know? The last time he called in he said it’s really important that I don’t sell the painting because he wants to keep it. I don’t even know why. I mean, why keep a picture if you can look at the original, huh?”  
Yixings voice is soothing, but Baekhyuns heart is hammering loudly in his chest, loud enough to hear it. He doesn’t understand what is going on, doesn’t know what Yixing is talking about and then the other man stops and maneuvers Baekhyun so that he is standing next to him.   
“I told him he should come too, but he seemed to be really nervous, you know? It’s been a while since we had the pleasure of having him in one of our exhibitions.”, the other says happily and then reaches out to turn Baekhyuns head with a hand under his chin.  
“Tada!”, he makes and sounds so happy that Baekhyun wonders what is wrong with him, but then his heart stops its thundering beating. It stops beating altogether.   
“What do you think?”, Yixing asks and Baekhyun tries to find his tongue, tries to find his brain. He is standing in front of a giant canvas, covered in different shades of blue and yellow, pastel peach and off white. He needs a moment to process what he is looking at, tries to piece together what he is looking at.   
His own face, painted with all the colors Sehun was muttering under his breath from time to time while he was looking at Baekhyun, trying to sketch his face with pencil and coal.   
“I’ll give you a moment.”, Yixing winks at him and pivots on his heel, prancing away a bit too cheerfully and Baekhyun is left alone again. He still doesn’t understand what he is looking at.   
He isn’t sure how long he is standing there, in front of the painting, looking at his own face that looks so much softer than he sees himself in the mirror.   
“The title of the series is colors and lights of my life.”, someone says next to him and Baekhyun hums, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip. His eyes are glued to the canvas, but he can see someone stepping up to his side from his peripheral vision.  
“You know, the artist said those pictures were made while he was thinking about the person he loves the most.”, the man next to him keeps talking and Baekhyun hums again even though he doesn’t know if the person is talking to him or to someone else.   
“I think it’s kind of interesting.”, the man says and Baekhyun starts chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know why people are talking to him, if they really see him or only the picture on the wall in front of him. If he is just another face in the crowd.   
“Since the artist wasn’t in the country while painting all those. Did you see the one over there? You might like it, you know? The blue and red one, I mean.”  
“Why-”, Baekhyun starts and turns to face the stranger and then stops in his tracks, opens his mouth and closes it again. It’s Chanyeol, smiling slightly at him and holding out a champagne glass to him as if he is trying to apologize again.   
“What are you doing here?”, Baekhyun hears himself ask, but he already guesses the answer if he is being honest. Chanyeol shrugs with one shoulder, looks over at the painting of Baekhyuns face and heaves a dramatic sigh.   
“Sehun is such an asshole.”, he says lightly and grins. “Honestly. Making me lie to you for so long. I thought I was going mad.”  
“You… lied to me…?”, Baekhyun asks slowly and he is even more confused than he was two seconds ago. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. “He didn’t leave?”  
“He left.”, Chanyeol shakes his head and takes a sip from his drink. Baekhyun does the same, only to have something to do. “But he kept in contact with me all the time. To check on you, to be honest. He didn’t want to tell me where he was at first, but he said he was visiting a couple of countries.”  
Baekhyun keeps silent, tries to not have his head spinning, but he is lost. Chanyeol knew. He knew all along where Sehun was, talked to him, lied to Baekhyun all this time.   
“Why?”, Baekhyun whispers and Chanyeol laughs loudly next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. “The reason is pretty obvious, isn’t it?”  
“No.”, Baekhyun says and shakes his head slowly. “It’s not.”  
“It is.”, Chanyeol insists and squeezes him gently. “It’s the most simple reason ever, Baekhyun. Think about it. Look at those pictures, read about them and then tell me you don’t know why he did this. The letter, the ring, the pictures. The present.”  
“What present?”, Baekhyun snaps and a couple to their left falls silent, looking at them with wide eyes, but Baekhyun ignores them. He was waiting for anger and now the anger hits him like a tidal wave. “I didn’t get a freaking present, Chanyeol! He fucking left me! And I waited for him and he is back and you knew all along and he doesn’t even- I don’t even know- I waited for him all this time and he just paints a giant picture of my fucking face and this is it? Do you think it changes a single fucking thing, Park?!”  
“It doesn’t.”, Chanyeol shakes his head and he is still smiling and Baekhyun wants to punch him in the face. “But you love him and he did this so he could be whole again. For you. After Jongin died he never was the same, Baekhyun. You brought him back to us but he still felt like he wasn’t good enough. Like he was still hung up on Jongin and he needed to let it go.”  
There are people staring at them by now, whispering to each other and Baekhyun still doesn’t care. He is too angry to care, too angry to be silent and he spots Yixing between the people, looking worried and talking into a phone like a machine gun.   
He’s probably calling security, Baekhyun thinks, but he is used to it. He is used to not being wanted. Chanyeol smiles, fucking smiles, while Baekhyun breaks in front of him.  
“You know.”, he starts then and takes another sip from his drink. “The title of the painting you’re looking at is You’re happiness.”  
It hurts. It hurts so much that Baekhyun recoils from it, presses both his hands to his chest to not lose it and start crying in the middle of the gallery while Yixing starts ushering people away from them, telling them to try the free snacks over there and look at a special painting over here. Baekhyun swallows, tastes tears on his tongue and lets go.   
Chanyeols arms are around him in a second, he is pressed against a hard chest and he cries, cries into his hands and tries not to break even more.   
“It’s okay.”, he hears Chanyeol say and he feels himself moving, feels another pair of hands brush over his shoulders until someone turns him around and different set of arms wrap around him, around his shoulders and his waist. A slightly stubbly cheek presses into his and Baekhyun breathes in, sobs into his fingers and feels smaller than ever. He is crying in the middle of a gallery and he doesn’t even know why. He should be happy to know that Sehun loves him, that he left because of him- that he is the reason Sehun will come back here and that he still wants him. It still hurts though. It hurts so, so much.   
“Took you long enough.”, Chanyeol rumbles behind him and Baekhyun holds his breath, goes rigid where he stands because suddenly it dawns on him that someone else is holding him while he cries bitter tears like a child. “I was running out of words over here.”  
“You and running out of words are two things that don’t fit into the same sentence.”, a different voice answers close by Baekhyuns ear and he makes a choked off sound, but he doesn’t struggle against the embrace even though his brain is still trying to wrap itself around the new information.   
“Oh, shut up.”, Chanyeol laughs and Baekhyun feels a large hand ruffling his ear.   
“Surprise.”, the taller whispers into his ear from behind and Baekhyun keeps silent. “Your present just arrived.”  
Baekhyun doesn’t need to look up to know who is holding him.   
His heart already knows.   
“I’m sorry it took so long.”, Sehun mutters into his ear and a pair of lips press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I wanted to deserve you. I wanted to be happiness for you too. Not only a heartache.”  
“You’re an idiot.”, Baekhyun breathes out and Sehun laughs.  
And Baekhyun thinks for the first time since he met him, that he understands what Sehun is talking about when he mutters under his breath. He sees it too, now.   
Indian red, deep rich firebrick and shades of royal blue.


End file.
